•T'C 


LIBRARY 

OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
Class 


POEMS 


POEMS 


MY  COUNTRY 
WILD   EDEN 

THE   PLAYERS'    ELEGY 

THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 
ODES    AND    SONNETS 

BY 

GEORGE   EDWARD   WOODBERRY 


Wefo  gorfc 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,   LTD. 
1903 

All  rights  reserved 


GENERAL 


COPYRIGHT,  1883,  1890,  1893, 
BY  GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY. 

COPYRIGHT,  1899,  1900,  1903, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up,  electrotyped,  and  published  November,  1903. 


J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

THE  author  has  here  collected  all  of  his  published 
verse,  except  a  fragment,  "  The  Roamer,"  which  he 
reserves  in  the  hope  of  completing  that  poem ;  and  a 
considerable  number  of  pieces,  hitherto  either  uncol- 
lected  or  unpublished,  are  also  included.  The  volume 
represents  the  passing  of  many  years,  and  begins  from 
days  almost  of  boyhood.  If  the  result  is  less  than  it 
should  have  been,  there  are  here  some  gleanings  of 
time  from  a  life  never  so  fortunate  as  to  permit  more 
than  momentary  and  incidental  cultivation  of  that  art 
which  is  the  chief  grace  of  the  intellectual  life.  The 
author  can  claim  only  that  he  has  written  no  line  except 
for  itself  alone. 

G.  E.  W. 

BEVERLY,  MASSACHUSETTS, 
August  13,  1903. 


CONTENTS 


MY  COUNTRY  AND  OTHER  POEMS: 

At  Gibraltar 3 

.    False  Dawn 5 

Love  at  the  Door 8 

Taormina 10 

"  Italy,  like  a  Dream  " 13 

Siena 14 

I.  The  Daisies 14 

II.   Christ  Scourged 15 

III.   The  Resurrection 17 

Forebodings 19 

"  Be  God's  the  Hope  " 20 

Love's  Rosary 21 

At  the  Funeral  of  William  E.  Russell       ....  22 

On  a  Portrait  of  Columbus 23 

My  Country 24 

America  and  England  in  Danger  of  War         ...  42 

"Will  it  be  so?" 47 

In  the  Square  of  St.  Peter's 49 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Near  Baiae 49 

Man :  Written  at  Ravenna 50 

"Nay,  Soul" 5! 

On  the  Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  PVench  Revolution  54 
To  the  Roman  Pontiff  on  the  Discipline  of  Father 

McGlynn ^ 

Our  First  Century 56 

To  those  who  reproved  the  Author  for  too  Sanguine 

Patriotism  .  57 

Shelley's  House 58 

WILD  EDEN: 

He  ate  the  Laurel  and  is  Mad 63 

Flower  before  the  Leaf    .         .         .    •     .         .         .         .68 

Wild  Eden .70 

The  Birth  of  Love   .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .73 

"  When  first  I  saw  Her  " 74 

The  Secret •         •  75 

"  O,  Inexpressible  as  Sweet  " 76 

The  Sea-shell 77 

The  Rose  of  Stars 79 

The  Rose  Bower 81 

The  Message  .         . 83 

The  Rose         .         .         ......         .         .84 

The  Lover 86 

The  Weather-spirit 88 

Love's  Castaway 89 


CONTENTS  ix 

PAGE 

Divine  Awe ?         .  91 

Wind  and  Wave 92 

Farewell 93 

The  Wanderers 94 

"  Now  Marble  Apennines  Shining  "  95 

"  I  see  the  Warm  Sun  Parting  " 96 

Love  Delayed 97 

Love's  Confessional 98 

Going  North    .                          100 

Homeward  Bound 101 

The  Homestead 103 

The  Lindens 104 

The  Bat 105 

The  Humming-bird 109 

The  Child 112 

Love's  Birthright 114 

"  From  the  Young  Orchards  " 115 

"  O,  Struck  beneath  the  Laurel  " 117 

The  Dream 118 

The  Death-rose 121 

The  Mighty  Mother 122 

Autumn 126 

So  Slow  to  Die 127 

The  Dirge 129 

The  Blood-red  Blossom 131 

Seaward 136 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  PLAYERS'  ELEGY  AND  OTHER  POEMS: 

The  Players'  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Edwin  Booth  :  read 
at  the  Memorial  Service  in  the  Madison  Square  Con 
cert  Hall,  New  York,  November  13,  1893    .         .         .145 
Ode:  read  at  the  Emerson  Centenary  Service,  Boston, 

May  24,  1903 156 

Aubrey  de  Vere :  obiit  1902 167 

Wendell  Phillips 167 

Essex  Regiment  March :  written  for  the  Eighth  Massa 
chusetts    United    States   Volunteer    Infantry    in    the 

Spanish  War 168 

The  Islands  of  the  Sea 171 

Children's  Hymn     .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .174 

To  a  Student 175 

The  Rose-giver *75 

To  Professor  A.  V.  Williams  Jackson  .  .  .  .  1 76 
To  E.  M.  O.  on  her  Golden  Wedding  .  .  .  .181 
Requiem:  Thomas  Randolph  Price  ....  182 

To  1903,  Columbia 184 

Exeter  Ode :    read  at  the  Dedication  of  Alumni  Hall, 
Phillips  Exeter  Academy,  June  17,  1903       .         .         .188 

THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH:  C.  L.  D.,  OBIIT  MDCCCLXXVIII     195 
AGATHON  225 


MY  COUNTRY  AND  OTHER 
POEMS 


OF  TMff 


x^ 

f 

I    UNIVERSITY') 
<*  * 


./romu^ 
0t  Gibraltar 


ENGLAND,  I  stand  on  thy  imperial  ground, 
Not  all  a  stranger ;  as  thy  bugles  blow, 
I  feel  within  my  blood  old  battles  flow  — 
The  blood  whose  ancient  founts  in  thee  are  found. 
Still  surging  dark  against  the  Christian  bound 
Wide  Islam  presses  ;  well  its  peoples  know 
Thy  heights  that  watch  them  wandering  below ; 
I  think  how  Lucknow  heard  their  gathering  sound. 
I  turn,  and  meet  the  cruel,  turbaned  face. 
England,  'tis  sweet  to  be  so  much  thy  son  1 
I  feel  the  conqueror  in  my  blood  and  race ; 
Last  night  Trafalgar  awed  me,  and  to-day 
Gibraltar  wakened  ;  hark,  thy  evening  gun 
Startles  the  desert  over  Africa ! 


AT   GIBRALTAR 


#t  Gibraltar 
ii 

THOU  art  the  rock  of  empire,  set  mid-seas 
Between  the  East  and  West,  that  God  has  built ; 
Advance  thy  Roman  borders  where  thou  wilt, 
While  run  thy  armies  true  with  His  decrees ; 
Law,  justice,  liberty  —  great  gifts  are  these  ; 
Watch  that  they  spread  where  English  blood  is  spilt, 
Lest,  mixed  and  sullied  with  his  country's  guilt, 
The  soldier's  life-stream  flow,  and  Heaven  displease  ! 
Two  swords  there  are :  one  naked,  apt  to  smite, 
Thy  blade  of  war ;  and,  battle-storied,  one 
Rejoices  in  the  sheath,  and  hides  from  light. 
American  I  am  ;  would  wars  were  done  ! 
Now  westward,  look,  my  country  bids  good-night  — 
Peace  to  the  world  from  ports  without  a  gun ! 


FALSE   DAWN 


GOD  dreamt  a  dream  ere  the  morning  woke 

Or  ever  the  stars  sang  out ; 
The  glory,  although  it  never  broke, 
Filled  heaven  with  a  golden  shout ; 

And  when  in  the  North  there's  a  quiver  and  beam 
Of  mystical  lights  that  heavenward  stream, 
The  heart  of  a  boy  will  dream  God's  dream. 

O  Norns,  who  sit  by  the  pale  sea's  capes, 

Loosen  the  wonderful  shine ! 
The  glamour  of  God  hath  a  thousand  shapes, 
And  every  one  divine. 

Dartle  and  listen  o'er  the  blue  height ; 
Drift  and  shimmer,  flight  on  flight ; 
The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  delight. 

O,  clamber  and  weave  with  the  Milky  Way 

The  Rose  in  the  East  that  sprang, 
From  star  to  star,  with  blossom  and  spray, 

On  heaven's  gates  to  hang ! 


i  FALSE   DAWN 

O  Vine  of  the  Morning,  cling  and  climb, 

Till  the  stars  like  birds  in  your  branches  chime 

The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  springtime. 

'Tis  Dawn  that  shadows  the  glowing  roof ! 

'Tis  Light  with  the  Dragon  strives  ! 
Ah,  Night's  black  warp  with  the  rainbow- woof 
The  shuttle  of  Destiny  drives. 

They  swerve  and  falter,  gather  and  fly, 
Wane,  and  shiver,  and  slip  from  the  sky  — 
O  Norns,  is  the  heart  of  a  boy  God's  lie  ? 

O  Childless  Ones,  would  your  blind  charms 

Might  seal  our  darling's  eyes  ! 
Dead,  with  the  dead  Dawn  in  his  arms, 
In  the  pale  north  Light  lies. 

Glimmer  and  glint,  O  fallen  fire  ! 

The  lights  of  heaven  like  ghosts  expire ; 

The  heart  of  a  boy  is  God's  desire. 

O  dream  God  dreamt  ere  the  morning  woke 

Or  ever  the  stars  sang  out ; 
O  glory  diviner  than  ever  broke, 

Of  the  false,  false  dawn  the  shout ! 


FALSE   DAWN 

False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 
Alas,  when  God  shall  wake  ! 

False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 
Alas,  our  young  mistake  ! 

False  dawn,  false  dawn,  false  dawn  — 
O  heart  betrayed,  break,  break  ! 


LOVE  AT  THE   DOOR 


llofoe  at  tlje  SDoor 

WAKEN,  love  !  the  night  is  dark, 
I  cannot  wander  more  ; 

0  love,  how  canst  thou  slumber? 

1  perish  at  thy  door  ! 

O,  deep  as  death  thy  dream, 
Unless  thou  now  awake, 
And  from  the  rain  and  darkness 
Me  to  thy  bosom  take  ! 

I  lie  upon  the  threshold 
In  the  pelting  outer  storm ; 
Yet  in  my  grief-worn  body 
Love  has  his  mortal  form. 
Open  !  a  god  shall  enter 
And  on  thy  eyes  shall  gaze 
The  face  of  the  immortals, 
Thine  after  many  days. 

But  if  thou  wilt  not  hearken 
And  rise  and  ope  the  door, 


LOVE   AT  THE   DOOR 

And  yield  thy  lover  pity,  — 

O,  never,  nevermore, 

Shalt  thou  hear  the  voice  divinest 

Nor  unto  morning  win ; 

Dead  lies  he  in  thy  doorway, 

And  thou  art  dead  within  ! 


io  TAORMINA 


GARDENS  of  olive,  gardens  of  almond,  gardens  of  lemon, 
down  to  the  shore, 

Terrace  on  terrace,  lost  in  the  hollow  ravines  where  the 
stony  torrents  pour ; 

Spurs  of  the  mountain-side  thrusting  above  them  rocky 
capes  in  the  quiet  air, 

Silvery-green  with  thorned  vegetation,  sprawling  lobes  of 
the  prickly  pear ; 

High  up,  the  eagle-nest,  small  Mola's  ruin,  clinging  and 
hanging  over  the  fall ; 

Nobly  the  lofty,  castle-cragged  hilltop,  famed  Taormina, 
looketh  o'er  all. 

Southward  the  purple  Mediterranean  rounds  the  far- 
shimmering,  long-fingered  capes ; 

Twenty  sea-leagues  has  the  light  travelled  ere  out  of  azure 
yon  headland  it  shapes  ; 

Purple  the  distance,  deep  indigo  under,  save  by  the  beach 
the  emerald  floor, 

Save  just  below  where,  ever  emerging,  lakes  of  mother-of- 
pearl  drift  o'er ; 


TAORMINA  ii 

Deep  purple  northward,  over  the  Straits,  as  far  as  the 

long  Calabrian  blue ; 
Front  more  majestic  of  sea-mountains  nowhere  is  there 

uplifted  the  whole  earth  through. 
Seaward  so  vast  the  prospect  envelops  one-half  of  the 

world  of  the  wave  and  the  sky ; 
Landward  the  ribbon  of  hill-slanted  orchards  blossoming 

down  from  the  mountains  high  ; 
Beautiful,  mighty ;  —  yet  ever  I  leave  it,  lose  and  forget 

it  in  yon  awful  clime, 
^Etna,  out  of  the  sea-floor  raising  slowly  its  long-skied 

ridge  sublime ; 
Heavily  snow-capped,  girdled   with    forests,  ^Etna,   the 

bosom  of  frost  and  fire, 
Roughened  by  lava-floods,  bossed  and  sculptured,  massive, 

immense,  alone,  entire ; 
Clear  are  the  hundred  white-coped  craters  sunk  in  the 

wrinkled  winter  there  ; 
Smoke  from  the  summit  cloud-like  trailing  lessens  and 

swells  and  drags  on  the  air ; 
yEtna,  the  snow,  the  fire,  the  forest,  lightning  and  flood 

and  ashy  gale ; 
Terrible  out  of  thy  caverns  flowing,  the  burning  heaven, 

the  dark  hot  hail ! 


12  TAORMINA 


,  the  garden-sweet  mother  of  vineyard,  corn-tilth, 

and  fruits  that  hang  from  the  sky  ; 
Bee-pastured  ^Etna  ;  it  charms  me,  it  holds  me,  it  fills 

me  —  than  life  is  it  more  nigh  ; 
Till  into  darkness  withdrawn,  dense  darkness  ;  and  far 

below  from  the  deep-set  shore 
Glimmers    the    long  white   surf,   and   uprises    the   old 

Trinacrian  roar. 


"ITALY,  LIKE   A   DREAM"  13 


a  sr>ream 


ITALY,  like  a  dream, 

Unfolds  before  my  eyes  ; 
But  another  fairer  dream 

Behind  me  lies  ; 
Could  I  turn  from  the  dream  that  is 

To  where  that  first  light  flies  — 
Could  I  turn  from  the  dream  that  was 

In  a  dream  life  dies  ! 

One  masters  the  spirit  of  life 

Through  love  of  life  to  be  ; 
I  am  not  master,  O  Love,  — 

Thou  slayest  the  will  in  me  ! 
Give  me  the  dream  that  is,  — 

Earth  like  heaven  to  see  ; 
Or  grant  the  dream  that  was,  — 

Love's  immortality  ! 


14  SIENA 


THE   DAISIES 

ONCE  I  came  to  Siena, 

Travelling  waywardly ; 
I  sought  not  church  nor  palace; 

I  did  not  care  to  see. 
In  the  little  park  at  Siena, 

Her  famous  ways  untrod, 
I  laid  me  down  in  the  springtime 

Upon  the  daisied  sod. 
New,  but  not  unfamiliar, 

Of  my  boyhood  seemed  the  scene 
The  hillsides  of  Judaea, 

And  Turner's  pines  between ; 
And  tenderly  the  rugged, 

Volcanic  rock-lands  bare, 
Warm  in  the  April  weather, 

Slept  in  the  melting  air. 
'Twas  April  in  the  valleys ; 

'Twas  April  in  the  sky ; 


SIENA  15 

And  from  the  tufted  locusts 

The  sweet  scent  wandered  by ; 
But  strange  to  me  the  sunshine, 

And  strange  the  growing  grass ; 
To  the  branch  that  cannot  blossom 

How  cold  doth  April  pass  ! 
As  lovers,  when  love  is  over, 

Remembering  seem  men  dead, 
Down  on  the  warm  bright  daisies, 

Earth's  lover,  I  laid  my  head ; 
And  whence  or  why  I  know  not, 

At  the  touch  my  eyes  were  dim, 
And  I  knew  that  these  were  the  daisies 

That  Keats  felt  grow  o'er  him. 


II 


CHRIST   SCOURGED 

I  SAW  in  Siena  pictures, 

Wandering  wearily ; 
I  sought  not  the  names  of  the  masters 

Nor  the  works  men  care  to  see ; 
But  once  in  a  low-ceiled  passage 

I  came  on  a  place  of  gloom, 


1 6  SIENA 


Lit  here  and  there  with  halos 

Like  saints  within  the  room. 
The  pure,  serene,  mild  colors 

The  early  artists  used 
Had  made  my  heart  grow  softer, 

And  still  on  peace  I  mused. 
Sudden  I  saw  the  Sufferer, 

And  my  frame  was  clenched  with  pain 
Perchance  no  throe  so  noble 

Visits  my  soul  again. 
Mine  were  the  stripes  of  the  scourging ; 

On  my  thorn-pierced  brow  blood  ran ; 
In  my  breast  the  deep  compassion 

Breaking  the  heart  for  man. 
I  drooped  with  heavy  eyelids, 

Till  evil  should  have  its  will ; 
On  my  lips  was  silence  gathered ; 

My  waiting  soul  stood  still. 
I  gazed,  nor  knew  I  was  gazing ; 

I  trembled,  and  woke  to  know 
Him  whom  they  worship  in  heaven 

Still  walking  on  earth  below. 
Once  have  I  borne  his  sorrows 

Beneath  the  flail  of  fate  ! 


SIENA  17 

Once,  in  the  woe  of  his  passion, 

I  felt  the  soul  grow  great ! 
I  turned  from  my  dead  Leader  j 

I  passed  the  silent  door ; 
The  gray-walled  street  received  me ; 

On  peace  I  mused  no  more. 

Ill 

THE   RESURRECTION 

AFTER  days  of  waiting, 

Rambling  still  elsewhere, 
I  took  the  narrow  causeway, 

Climbed  the  broad  stone  stair ; 
Round  the  angle  turning 

With  unlifted  gaze 
In  the  high  piazza, — 

O,  the  wasted  days  ! 
There  the  great  cathedral 

Came  upon  my  eyes ; 
Nevermore  may  marvel 

Bring  to  me  surprise  ! 
In  the  light  of  heaven 

Builded,  heaven's  delight, 


1 8  SIENA 

Never  sculptured  beauty 

Hallowed  so  my  sight ! 
On  the  silent  curbstone 

Long  I  sat,  and  gazed, 
With  the  sainted  vision 

Ever  more  amazed ; 
Rose,  and  past  the  curtain 

Trod  the  pictured  floor, 
Read  Siena's  story, 

Saw  her  glory's  store. 
In  the  high  piazza. 

Once  again  I  turned ; 
Clear  in  heaven's  sunlight 

Prophet  and  angel  burned. 
Still,  whene'er  that  vision 

Comes  upon  my  eyes, 
I  seem  to  see  triumphant 

The  Resurrection  rise. 


FOREBODINGS  19 


THE  winds  and  the  waves  are  wailing, 
And  the  night  is  full  of  tears  • 

And  over  my  spirit  forebodings 
Are  borne  from  the  coming  years. 

I  fear  for  the  child  heart  in  me, 
With  its  oneness  of  faith  and  sight, 

Lest  the  glow  of  its  strong  endeavor 
Go  out  in  the  passionate  night. 

I  fear  for  the  swift  feet  running 

Top-speed  through  the  morning  dew, 

Lest  they  fail  in  the  burning  race-  course, 
With  the  goal,  unwon,  in  view. 

I  fear  lest  the  motive  for  striving 

Is  perishing  in  the  strife  ; 
I  fear  lest  the  glory  of  living 

Is  darkening  in  the  life. 

I  fear,  and  in  tears  I  shiver, 
At  the  feet  of  coming  years  ; 

The  winds  and  the  waves  are  wailing, 
And  the  night  is  full  of  tears. 


20  "BE   GOD'S  THE   HOPE 


"  Be  <Sot>'$  ttie 


BE  God's  the  Hope  !     He  built  the  azure  frame  ; 
He  sphered  its  borders  with  the  walls  of  flame  ; 
'Tis  His,  whose  hands  have  made  it,  glory  or  shame. 
Be  God's  the  Hope  ! 

The  Serpent  girds  the  round  of  earth  and  sea  ; 
The  Serpent  pastures  on  the  precious  tree  ; 
The  Serpent,  Lord  of  Paradise  is  he. 
Be  God's  the  Hope  ! 

I  thought  to  slay  him.     I  am  vanquished. 
Heaven  needed  not  my  stroke,  and  I  am  sped. 
Yea,  God,  thou  livest,  though  thy  poor  friend  be  dead. 
Be  God's  the  Hope  ! 


LOVE'S   ROSARY  21 


JLofoe's? 


SWEET  names,  the  rosary  of  my  evening  prayer, 

Told  on  my  lips  like  kisses  of  good  night 

To  friends  who  go  a  little  from  my  sight, 

And  some  through  distant  years  shine  clear  and  fair  ! 

So  this  dear  burden  that  I  daily  bear 

Nightly  God  taketh,  and  doth  loose  me  quite  ; 

And  soft  I  sink  in  slumbers  pure  and  light 

With  thoughts  of  human  love  and  heavenly  care. 

But  when  I  mark  how  into  shadow  slips 

My  manhood's  prime,  and  weep  fast-  passing  friends, 

And  heaven's  riches  making  poor  my  lips, 

And  think  how  in  the  dust  love's  labor  ends, 

Then,  where  the  cluster  of  my  hearthstone  shone, 

"  Bid  me  not  live,"  I  sigh,  "  till  all  be  gone." 


22     THE  FUNERAL  OF  WILLIAM  E.  RUSSELL 


tfje  jfuneral  of  Militant  <E. 


DEAD  !  deaf  forever  to  the  people's  call, 

The  fallen  leader  ;    sorrow  clouds  the  state  ; 

The  greatest  of  the  land  about  his  pall 

Mourn  for  the  dark  reversal  of  his  fate. 

But  from  our  eyes,  who  cherished  him  o'er  all, 

And  in  our  boyhood  with  his  heart  did  mate, 

What  tears  must  for  this  son  of  Harvard  fall 

Who  kept  our  early  faith  inviolate  ! 

Bear  him,  pale  classmates,  down  the  grief-hushed  aisle 

Who  once  through  shouting  thousands,  mile  on  mile, 

Rode  with  proud  rein,  erect,  and  happy  smile  ; 

Now  bear  him,  flag-wrapped,  down  the  black  defile, 

Out  at  the  door,  where  azure  summer  blows, 

To  spaces  where  the  light  eternal  glows,  — 

There  in  the  will  of  God  shall  he  repose  : 

We  to  the  work  through  which  the  people  grows. 


ON   A   PORTRAIT   OF   COLUMBUS         23 


a  portrait  of  Columbus 


WAS  this  his  face,  and  these  the  finding  eyes 

That  plucked  a  new  world  from  the  rolling  seas  ? 

Who,  serving  Christ,  whom  most  he  sought  to  please, 

Willed  the  great  vision  till  he  saw  arise 

Man's  other  home  and  earthly  paradise  — 

His  early  thought  since  first  with  stalwart  knees 

He  pushed  the  boat  from  his  young  olive  trees, 

And  sailed  to  wrest  the  secret  of  the  skies  ? 

He  on  the  waters  dared  to  set  his  feet, 

And  through  believing  planted  earth's  last  race. 

What  faith  in  man  must  in  our  new  world  beat, 

Thinking  how  once  he  saw  before  his  face 

The  west  and  all  the  host  of  stars  retreat 

Into  the  silent  infinite  of  space  ! 


24  MY   COUNTRY 


Country 


WHO  saith  that  song  doth  fail  ? 

Or  thinks  to  bound 

Within  a  little  plot  of  Grecian  ground 

The  sole  of  mortal  things  that  can  avail  ? 

Olympus  was  but  heaven's  gate  ; 

Not  there  the  strong  Light-  bringer  deigned  to  wait; 

But  westward  o'er  the  rosy  height 

His  cloud-sprung  coursers  trample  light  ; 

And  ever  westward  leans  the  god  above  the  joyful  steeds  ; 

The  light  in  his  eyes  is  prophecy;  on  his  lips  the  words 

are  deeds  ; 
On  whirls  the  burning  Singer  ;  earth  wakens  where  he 

speeds. 

The  singing  keels  that  moored  great  Rome 
Silence  o'ertakes  ;  but  his  Immortal  Song, 
To  which  the  world-wide  fates  belong, 
Still  seeks  the  fleeing  shore  and  for  the  gods  a  home, 
A  new  Ausonia  sings,  swells  o'er  a  mightier  foam. 
The  citadels  of  Italy  - 
O  dear  to  him  is  Liberty  !  — 


MY   COUNTRY  25 

Chained  not  to  her  marble  mountains, 

Sealed  not  in  her  broken  fountains, 

His  bright  fire ; 

Up  the  dark  North  it  leapt,  the  masterless  desire : 

Nor  even  the  Imperial  Isle,  the  Ocean-State, 

Who  Time's  great  order  leads,  and  fastens  fate, 

Shall  keep  his  speed  across  the  shouting  sea ; 

Destiny  exceeds  her  scope  ; 

The  hope  of  man  exceeds  her  hope ; 

The  regions  of  the  west  unfold ; 

New  ages  on  the  god  are  rolled ; 

The  throning  years  to  be, 

Of  earth's  new  men  the  praise, 

Rise  on  him  where  he  stands  and  bends  his  dreaming 

gaze, 

And  smiles  to  see  the  shore  night  vainly  shrouds 
Through  tracts  of  ruddy  air  and  darkly  gleaming  clouds. 

Awake,  O  Land,  and  lesser  fortunes  scorn  ! 
Amid  the  darkness,  by  the  eastern  strand, 
Bend  down  thy  ear,  and  hearken  with  thy  hand ; 
He  comes  who  brings  to  thee  eternal  morn  ! 
More  radiant  and  fair 
Than  ever  thy  mornings  were, 


26  MY   COUNTRY 

Or  any  morn  that  ever  broke  from  night 

Since  the  dear  star  of  dawn  began  his  earthly  flight ! 

O,  whisper  to  thy  clustered  isles, 

If  any  rosy  promise  round  them  smiles ; 

O,  call  to  every  seaward  promontory, 

If  one  of  them,  perchance,  is  made  the  cape  of  glory ; 

O,  bid  the  mountains  answer  thy  inquire, 

If  any  peak  be  tipped  with  lonely  fire, 

A  shining  name 

And  station  of  the  winged  flame 

Above  the  time's  desire  ! 

Doubt  not,  O  waiting  Land ;  for  who  hath  power 

To  bar  the  golden  journey  of  the  sun, 

Or  on  time's  dial  set  back  the  destined  hour  ? 

Doubt  not,  but  O,  thy  heart  within  prepare, 

And  ripen  praise  upon  thy  lips  with  prayer, 

When  the  bright  summons  through  thy  frame  shall  run 

Of  that  great  day  begun  ! 

Then  heaven  shall  search  thee  with  its  shafts  of  light, 

And  lay  thy  coverts  and  thy  fastness  bare, 

And  drag  the  Serpent  from  its  human  lair, 

And  on  its  scales  the  swords  of  God  shall  smite, 

Wielded  aloft  by  spirits  that  know  to  fight, 

To  find  the  heart  with  wounds  and  not  to  spare. 


MY   COUNTRY  27 

O  wilderness  untried, 

If  thou  dost  cherish, 

Brought  from  the  old  earth's  side, 

The  beasts  that  perish, 

The  things  that  eat  the  dust  and  darkly  crawl, 

And  in  the  heart  of  nations  poison  all  — 

O,  terrible  that  brightness  will  appall, 

World-justice  hanging  o'er  thee,  and  shall  fall ! 

Seize  thy  spear  and  grasp  thy  sword ; 

Speak  the  righteous  word ; 

And  his  battle  rolling  o'er  thee, 

And  his  victory  flashing  round, 

Shall  drive  the  cumbering  brood  before  thee, 

Free  forevermore  thy  ground ; 

Thy  great  ally, 

Leaning  from  the  sky, 

Shall  twine  thy  hair  with  morning  and  the  olive's  warless 

crown  ! 

O  Soil  befriending  men, 
Pluck  from  the  Future's  hand  her  iron  pen ; 
While  yet  his  coming  lingers,  O,  stoop  down, 
And  write  upon  the  threshold  of  thy  earth 
The  word  that  levels  all  men  in  their  birth, 
And  in  thy  love,  and  in  their  spirits'  worth  ! 


28  MY   COUNTRY 

Be  that  sign,  engraved  on  thee, 
Thy  omen  and  thy  destiny  ! 

Look  forth,  O  Land,  thy  mountain  tops 

Glitter ;  look,  the  shadow  drops ; 

On  the  warder  summits  hoary 

Bursts  the  splendor-voiced  story ; 

Round  the  crags  of  watching  rolled 

The  purple  vales  of  heaven  unfold, 

And  far-shining  ridges  hang  in  air  — 

Northward  beam,  and  to  the  south  the  promise  bear ; 

Unto  isle  and  headland  sing  it, 

O'er  the  misty  Midland  fling  it, 

From  a  hundred  glorious  peaks,  the  Appalachian  gold  ! 

O'er  the  valley  of  the  thousand  rivers, 

O'er  the  sea-horizoned  lakes, 

Through  heaven's  wide  gulf  the  marvellous  fire  quivers, 

Myriad-winged,  and  every  dwindling  star  o'ertakes ; 

On  where  earth's  last  ranges  listen, 

Thunder-peaks  that  cloud  the  west 

With  the  flashing  signal  waken  ; 

All  the  tameless  Rockies  own  it  — 

One  great  edge  of  sunrise  glisten ; 

All  the  skied  Sierras  throne  it ; 


MY   COUNTRY 

And  lone  Shasta,  high  uplifted 

O'er  the  snowy  centuries  drifted, 

Hears,  and  through  his  lands  is  splendor  shaken 

From  the  morning's  jewel  in  his  crest ! 

O  chosen  Land, 

God's  hand 

Doth  touch  thy  spires, 

And  lights  on  all  thy  hills  his  rousing  fires ! 

O  beacon  of  the  nations,  lift  thy  head ; 

Firm  be  thy  bases  under ; 

Now  thy  earth-might  with  heaven  wed 

Beyond  hell's  hate  to  sunder  ! 

O  Land  of  Promise,  whom  all  eyes 

Have  strained  through  time  to  see, 

Since  poets,  cradled  in  the  skies, 

Flashed  prophecy  on  thee  ! 

O  great  Atlantis,  other  world, 

That  never  voyager  won, 

Though  many  a  shining  sail  was  furled, 

Lost  in  the  setting  sun  ! 

Joy,  joy,  joy  !  thy  destiny  hath  found  thee  ! 

Now  the  oceans  brighten  round  thee, 

To  thy  heaven-born  fate  ascending ; 

Thou,  earth's  darling  !  thou,  the  yearning 


29 


3o  MY   COUNTRY 

Of  the  last  hope  in  her  burning, 

Who  shalt  seal  her  womb  forevermore  ! 

Child,  whose  rosy  breath  is  blending 

With  the  morning's,  o'er  thee  bending, 

While  the  chorus,  never  ending, 

Swells  from  shore  to  shore  — 

Triumph  of  the  peoples,  anthem  never  heard  before  ! 

Thou,  the  crowner  of  the  ages, 

Now  the  eagle  seeks  thy  hand ; 

Poets,  statesmen,  heroes,  sages, 

In  the  long-drawn  portals  stand  ! 

Well  may  mount  to  mount  declare  thee ; 

Ocean  unto  ocean  sound  thee  ; 

To  the  skies  loud  hymns  upbear  thee ; 

Earth  embrace,  and  heaven  bound  thee ; 

God  hath  found  thee  ! 

Through  the  world  the  tidings  pour, 

And  fill  it  o'er  and  o'er, 

As   the  wave   of  morning   fills   the    long  Atlantic 

shore ; 

Fills,  and  brims  —  O  speed  the  story  !  — 
The  emerald  cup  of  thy  great  river-gods ; 
Brims,  and  through  the  west  down  golden  sods 
To  the  Pacific  rolls ;  flood  unto  flood  speaks  glory  ! 


MY   COUNTRY  31 

O  Fair  Land,  do  thy  eyes 

Dream  paradise? 

Or  mortal  fields  are  these,  or  fallen  skies  ? 

Dost  thou  not  hear  Him  singing  in  the  gold 

The  lofty  paean  thy  long  years  unfold, 

And  joy  divine  that  shines  in  man's  just  praise, 

Though  yet  awhile  delays 

The  hour  full-orbed,  and  his  unclouded  blaze? 

Of  holy  hymns  and  famous  deeds 

He  casts  before  the  deathless  seeds ; 

He  wooes  thy  dust  with  rosy  rain ; 

Of  thy  sweet  months  is  he  so  fain ; 

O,  lovelier  than  the  poets  told, 

Unwreathes  his  brow  to  light  thy  dying  mould  ! 

And  from  their  morning  bower  and  from  their  sunny 

lair, 

Scatters  the  bloom  that  springs 
On  heavenly  pastures  fair 
And  o'er  thy  bosom  flings 
The  fragrance  of  his  own  immortal  air  ! 
Nor  flowers  alone  are  his,  but  every  fruit 
That  takes  the  breath  of  heaven  fed  from  a  darkened 

root; 
Joy  to  thy  virgin  soil  that  spring  shall  thrill  and  shoot ! 


32  MY   COUNTRY 

Like  Love,  its  coming  sweet, 

With  motions  of  auroral  winds  that  fleet, 

Shadow  and  music,  o'er  the  new  green  wheat ; 

Thy   summer  lights   the    land,    thy   autumn    loads    the 

sea; 

And  still  a  lovelier  year  returns  to  thee ; 
Or  where  the  glowing  South  is  white  like  wool ; 
Or  where  the  sun-spanned  ocean  of  the  maize 
Broods  in  the  brilliant  calm,  and  lightly  sways  j 
Or  where  by  inland  seas,  forever  full, 
The  golden  reservoirs  of  summer  days, 
Towers  of  abundance  stand  in  all  thy  ways ; 
Or  further  on,  where  bud  and  fruit  together, 
Immortal  orchards,  star  the  fadeless  weather. 
O  generous  fertility, 
Like  Love,  to  all  men  free  ! 
And  ever  rolls  an  ampler  year,  and  heaven  grows  ripe  in 

thee! 

For  nobler  yields  than  these, 
O  favored  Land, 

Are  whispering  with  thy  breeze  — 
The  tillage  of  God's  hand  ; 
And  though  it  seem  thy  own,  this  fair  estate 
(Or  fief  or  freehold,  ask  of  Day  and  Night), 


MY   COUNTRY  33 

The  Eternal  only  sows  the  field  of  fate, 
And  o'er  thy  will  doth  exercise  His  right. 
Thou  canst  not  groove  the  soil  nor  turn  the  sod 
But  thou  shalt  drop  therein  the  seeds  of  time ; 
Thy  labor  brings  to  light  the  will  of  God ; 
Fair  must  the  harvest  be,  and  stand  sublime ; 
And  when  the  mellowing  year  is  made  complete, 
And  for  the  world  thou  reapest  time's  increase, 
He  thrusts  His  sickle  in  the  heavy  wheat, 
And  in  thy  bursting  granaries  garners  Peace. 

O  humbly  bow  thee  down, 

Blessed  o'er  all  thou  art ; 

Earth's  plenty  in  thy  crown, 

God's  Peace  within  thy  heart ! 

Again,  O  mighty  hymn,  begin  ! 

O  mount,  Virgilian  song  ! 

Let  be  the  suffering  and  the  sin ; 

Thy  years  to  Love  belong  ! 

No  Janus-stables  on  thy  soil,  nor  hoof  of  Mars's  steeds  ; 

No  ruin  smokes ;  no  war-bolt  strikes ;  no  scar  of  battle 

bleeds ; 

But  fair  as  once  Athene's  height  thy  marble  hill  shall  rise, 
Where  Justice  reconciles  thy  earth,  Virtue  disarms  thy  skies  ! 


34  MY   COUNTRY 

As  splendors  of  the  dawn 

Make  earthly  tapers  wan, 

Less  than  a  candle's  beam 

The  world's  first  hope  shall  gleam 

When  o'er  thy  vales  and  soothed  seas  the  truce  of  time 

shall  stream  ! 

Come  !  come  !  O  light  divine  ! 
O  come,  Saturnian  morn  ! 
O  Land  of  Peace  on  whom  recline 
Ten  thousand  hopes  unborn  — 
O  Beautiful,  stand  forth,  nor  sword,  nor  lance, 
Silent  wielder  of  the  fates  ! 
War-tamer,  striking  with  thy  glance 
The  thunder  from  imperial  states  ! 
So  hard,  surpassing  war,  doth  Peace  assail ; 
So  far,  exceeding  hate,  doth  Love  avail ; 
Now,  married  to  thy  sphere, 
Blessed  between  the  nodding  poles  shall  wheel  the  earth's 

Great  Year. 

O  destined  Land,  unto  thy  citadel, 
What  founding  fates  even  now  doth  peace  compel, 
That  through  the  world  thy  name  is  sweet  to  tell ! 
O  throned  Freedom,  unto  thee  is  brought 


MY   COUNTRY  35 

Empire ;  nor  falsehood  nor  blood-payment  asked ; 

Who  never  through  deceit  thy  ends  hast  sought, 

Nor  toiling  millions  for  ambition  tasked; 

Unlike  the  fools  who  build  the  throne 

On  fraud,  and  wrong,  and  woe ; 

For  man  at  last  will  take  his  own, 

Nor  count  the  overthrow ; 

But  far  from  these  is  set  thy  continent, 

Nor  fears  the  Revolution  in  man's  rise ; 

On  laws  that  with  the  weal  of  all  consent, 

And  saving  truths  that  make  the  people  wise : 

For  thou  art  founded  in  the  eternal  fact 

That  every  man  doth  greaten  with  the  act 

Of  freedom  •  and  doth  strengthen  with  the  weight 

Of  duty  ;  and  diviner  moulds  his  fate, 

By  sharp  experience  taught  the  thing  he  lacked, 

God's  pupil ;  thy  large  maxim  framed,  though  late, 

Who  masters  best  himself  best  serves  the  State. 

This  wisdom  is  thy  Corner  :  next  the  stone 

Of  Bounty ;  thou  hast  given  all ;  thy  store, 

Free  as  the  air,  and  broadcast  as  the  light, 

Thou  flingest ;  and  the  fair  and  gracious  sight, 

More  rich,  doth  teach  thy  sons  this  happy  lore : 

That  no  man  lives  who  takes  not  priceless  gifts 


36  MY   COUNTRY 

Both  of  thy  substance  and  thy  laws,  whereto 
He  may  not  plead  desert,  but  holds  of  thee 
A  childhood  title,  shared  with  all  who  grew, 
His  brethren  of  the  hearth ;  whence  no  man  lifts 
Above  the  common  right  his  claim ;  nor  dares 
To  fence  his  pastures  of  the  common  good ; 
For  common  are  thy  fields  ;  common  the  toil ; 
Common  the  charter  of  prosperity, 
That  gives  to  each  that  all  may  blessed  be. 
This  is  the  very  counsel  of  thy  soil. 
Therefore  if  any  thrive,  mean-souled  he  spares 
The  alms  he  took ;  let  him  not  think  subdued 
The  State's  first  law,  that  civic  rights  are  strong 
But  while  the  fruits  of  all  to  all  belong ; 
Although  he  heir  the  fortune  of  the  earth, 
Let  him  not  hoard,  nor  spend  it  for  his  mirth, 
But  match  his  private  means  with  public  worth. 
That  man  in  whom  the  people's  riches  lie 
Is  the  great  citizen,  in  his  country's  eye. 
Justice,  the  third  great  base,  that  shall  secure 
To  each  his  earnings,  howsoever  poor, 
From  each  his  duties,  howsoever  great. 
She  bids  the  future  for  the  past  atone. 
Behold  her  symbols  on  the  hoary  stone  — 


MY   COUNTRY  37 

The  awful  scales  and  that  war-hammered  beam 

Which  whoso  thinks  to  break  doth  fondly  dream, 

Or  Czars  who  tyrannize  or  mobs  that  rage; 

These  are  her  charge,  and  heaven's  eternal  law. 

She  from  old  fountains  doth  new  judgment  draw, 

Till,  word  by  word,  the  ancient  order  swerves 

To  the  true  course  more  nigh ;  in  every  age 

A  little  she  creates,  but  more  preserves. 

Hope  stands  the  last,  a  mighty  prop  of  fate. 

These  thy  foundations  are,  O  firm-set  State  ! 

And  strength  is  unto  thee 

More  than  this  masonry 

Of  common  thought ; 

Beyond  the  stars,  from  the  Far  City  brought. 

Pillar  and  tower 

Declare  the  shaping  power, 

Massive,  severe,  sublime, 

Of  the  stern,  righteous  time, 

From  sire  to  son  bequeathed,  thy  eldest  dower. 

Large-limbed  they  were,  the  pioneers, 

Cast  in  the  iron  mould  that  fate  reveres ; 

They  could  not  help  but  frame  the  fabric  well, 

Who  squared  the  stones  for  heaven's  eye  to  tell ; 

Who  knew  from  eld  and  taught  posterity, 


38  MY   COUNTRY 

That  the  true  workman's  only  he 

Who  builds  of  God's  necessity. 

Nor  yet  hath  failed  the  seed  of  righteousness ; 

Still  doth  the  work  the  awe  divine  confess, 

Conscience  within,  duty  without,  express. 

Well  may  thy  sons  rejoice  thee,  O  proud  Land ; 

No  weakling  race  of  mighty  loins  is  thine, 

No  spendthrifts  of  the  fathers  ;  lo,  the  Arch, 

The  loyal  keystone  glorying  o'er  the  march 

Of  millioned  peoples  freed  !  on  every  hand 

Grows  the  vast  work,  and  boundless  the  design. 

So  in  thy  children  shall  thy  empire  stand, 

As  in  her  Caesars  fell  Rome's  majesty. 

O  Desolation,  be  it  far  from  thee  ! 

Forgetting  sires  and  sons  to  whom  were  given 

The  seals  of  glory  and  the  keys  of  fate 

From  Him,  whom  well  they  knew  the  Rock  of  State, 

Thy  centre ;  and  on  thy  doorposts  blazed  His  name 

Whose  plaudit  is  the  substance  of  all  fame, 

The  sweetness  of  all  hope  —  forbid  it,  Heaven  ! 


Shrink  not,  O  Land,  beneath  that  holy  fear  ! 
Thou  art  not  mocked  of  God ; 


MY   COUNTRY  39 

His  kingdom  is  thy  conquering  sphere, 

His  will  thy  ruling  rod  ! 

O  Harbor  of  the  sea-tossed  fates, 

The  last  great  mortal  Bound ; 

Cybele,  with  a  hundred  States, 

A  hundred  turrets,  crowned ; 

Mother,  whose  heart  divinely  holds 

Earth's  poor  within  her  breast ; 

World-Shelterer,  in  whose  open  folds 

The  wandering  races  rest ; 

Advance,  the  hour  supreme  arrives ; 

O'er  Ocean's  edge  the  chariot  drives ; 

The  past  is  done ; 

Thy  orb  begun ; 

Upon  the  forehead  of  the  world  to  blaze, 

Lighting  all  times  to  be  with  thy  own  golden  days. 


O  Land  beloved ! 

My  Country,  dear,  my  own  ! 

May  the  young  heart  that  moved 

For  the  weak  words  atone ; 

The  mighty  lyre  not  mine,  nor  the  full  breath  of  song  ! 

To  happier  sons  shall  these  belong. 


40  MY   COUNTRY 

Yet  doth  the  first  and  lonely  voice 

Of  the  dark  dawn  the  heart  rejoice, 

While  still  the  loud  choir  sleeps  upon  the  bough ; 

And  never  greater  love  salutes  thy  brow 

Than  his,  who  seeks  thee  now. 

Alien  the  sea  and  salt  the  foam 

Where'er  it  bears  him  from  his  home ; 

And  when  he  leaps  to  land, 

A  lover  treads  the  strand  ; 

Precious  is  every  stone ; 

No  little  inch  of  all  the  broad  domain 

But  he  would  stoop  to  kiss,  and  end  his  pain, 

Feeling  thy  lips  make  merry  with  his  own ; 

But  O,  his  trembling  reed  too  frail 

To  bear  thee  Time's  All- Hail ! 

Faint  is  my  heart,  and  ebbing  with  the  passion  of  thy 

praise  ! 

The  poets  come  who  cannot  fail ; 
Happy  are  they  who  sing  thy  perfect  days  ! 
Happy  am  I  who  see  the  long  night  ended, 
In  the  shadows  of  the  age  that  bore  me, 
All  the  hopes  of  mankind  blending, 
Earth  awaking,  heaven  descending, 
While  the  new  day  steadfastly 


MY   COUNTRY  41 

Domes  the  blue  deeps  over  thee  ! 
Happy  am  I  who  see  the  Vision  splendid 
In  the  glowing  of  the  dawn  before  me, 
All  the  grace  of  heaven  blending, 
Man  arising,  Christ  descending, 
While  God's  hand  in  secrecy 
Builds  thy  bright  eternity. 


42  AMERICA   AND   ENGLAND 

America  anD  (England  in  Danger  of  Mar 
i 

HAST  thou  forgot  the  breasts  that  gave  us  suck, 
And  whence  our  likeness  to  our  fathers  came, 
Though  from  our  arms  twice  stooping  with  the  same 
Great  blow  that  Runnymede  and  Naseby  struck  ? 
Out  of  thy  heart  the  imperial  spark  we  pluck 
Which  in  our  blood  is  breaking  into  flame ; 
O,  of  one  honor  make  not  double  shame ; 
Give  not  the  English  race  to  fortune's  luck  ! 
Thy  reef  of  war  across  our  seaboard  thrown, 
Fortress  and  arsenal  against  us  stored  — 
Trust  not  in  them  !  the  awful  summons  blown, 
High  o'er  our  long  sea-blaze  and  battle  poured 
Through  all  the  marches  of  the  open  North, 
On  arms  uplifted  thy  First-born  rides  forth. 


AMERICA   AND    ENGLAND  43 

ana  (0;nglanU  in  SDanger  of  Mar 
ii 


MOTHER  of  nations,  of  them  eldest  we, 

Well  is  it  found,  and  happy  for  the  state, 

When  that  which  makes  men  proud  first  makes  them 

great, 

And  such  our  fortune  is  who  sprang  from  thee, 
And  brought  to  this  new  land  from  over  sea 
The  faith  that  can  with  every  household  mate, 
And  freedom  whereof  law  is  magistrate, 
And  thoughts  that  make  men  brave,  and  leave  them  free. 
O  Mother  of  our  faith,  our  law,  our  lore, 
What  shall  we  answer  thee  if  thou  shouldst  ask 
How  this  fair  birthright  doth  in  us  increase? 
There  is  no  home  but  Christ  is  at  the  door  ; 
Freely  our  toiling  millions  choose  life's  task  ; 
Justice  we  love,  and  next  to  justice  peace. 


44  AMERICA   AND    ENGLAND 

America  ana  (England  in  Danger  of 
in 


WHAT  is  the  strength  of  England,  and  her  pride 
Among  the  nations,  when  she  makes  her  boast  ? 
Has  the  East  heard  it,  where  her  far-flung  host 
Hangs  like  a  javelin  in  India's  side  ? 
Does  the  sea  know  it,  where  her  navies  ride, 
Like  towers  of  stars,  about  the  silver  coast, 
Or  from  the  great  Capes  to  the  uttermost 
Parts  of  the  North  like  ocean  meteors  glide  ? 
Answer,  O  South,  if  yet  where  Gordon  sank, 
Spent  arrow  of  the  far  and  lone  Soudan, 
There  comes  a  whisper  out  of  wasted  death  ! 
O  every  ocean,  every  land,  that  drank 
The  blood  of  England,  answer,  if  ye  can, 
What  is  it  that  giveth  her  immortal  breath? 


AMERICA  AND   ENGLAND  45 

America  ana  <fl;nglana  in  Danger  of  Mar 

IV 

THEN  the  West  answered  :  "  Is  the  sword's  keen  edge 

Like  to  the  mind  for  sharpness?     Doth  the  flame 

Devour  like  thought?     Many  with  chariots  came, 

Squadron  and  phalanx,  legion,  square,  and  wedge ; 

They  mounted  up  ;  they  wound  from  ledge  to  ledge 

Of  battle-glory  dark  with  battle-shame ; 

But  God  hath  hurled  them  from  the  heights  of  fame 

Who  from  the  soul  took  no  eternal  pledge. 

Because  above  her  people  and  her  throne 

She  hath  erected  reason's  sovereignty ; 

Because  wherever  human  speech  is  known 

The  touch  of  English  breath  doth  make  thought  free ; 

Therefore  forever  is  her  glory  blown 

About  the  hills,  and  flashed  beneath  the  sea." 


46  AMERICA   AND   ENGLAND 


America  ana  (Bnglanu  in  SDanger  of 


FIRST  of  mankind  bid  we  our  eagles  pause 

Before  the  pure  tribunal  of  the  mind, 

Where  swordless  justice  shall  the  sentence  find, 

And  righteous  reason  arbitrate  the  cause  ! 

First  of  mankind,  whom  yet  no  power  o'erawes, 

One  kin  let  us  confederate  and  bind ; 

Let  the  great  instrument  be  made  and  signed, 

The  mould  and  pattern  of  earth's  mightier  laws  ! 

Crown  with  this  act  the  thousand  years  of  thought, 

O  English  Race,  and  wheresoever  roams 

Thy  sea- flown  brood,  and  bulwarked  states  has  wrought 

Far  as  the  loneliest  wave  of  ocean  foams, 

Thy  children's  love  with  veneration  brought 

Shall  warm  thy  hearthstone  from  their  million  homes. 


WILL   IT   BE   SO?"  47 


«  mill  it  be  00  ?  " 

WHILE  I  remember 
Dost  thou  forget, 
Where  by  the  home-ember 
I  see  thee  yet? 
Or  dost  thou  miss  only 
The  friend  from  thy  side, 
While  I  am  lonely 
Life-long  for  my  bride  ? 

When  we  met,  when  we  parted, 
Was  it  mine,  not  thy  hand, 
That  trembled  and  started 
At  love's  demand  ? 
Mine  only  the  rapture 
Unshared,  and  the  pain 
Till  thought  could  recapture 
Thy  presence  again  ? 

Was  it  all  heart's  delusion 
When  each  warm  breath, 


48  "WILL   IT   BE   SO?" 

Caught  with  confusion, 
Told  life,  told  death  ? 
Though  choked  was  my  story, 
Though  scattered  my  power, 
Wert  thou  blind  to  the  glory 
Of  love's  one  hour  ? 

Wert  thou  not  maiden 
To  feel  the  soul-touch 
Of  the  spirit  love-laden 
That  loved  too  much  ? 
If  late  thou  shouldst  waken, 
If  late  thou  shouldst  know, 
Forgotten,  forsaken — 
Will  it  be  so  ? 


NEAR   BALE  49 


2f]n  tlje  Square  of 


How  brave  with  heaven  St.  Peter's  fountain  copes, 
And  sheds  the  rainbow  round,  and  silvers  all  ! 

Man's  heart  is  such  a  fountain  ;  so  his  hopes 
The  rainbow  shed,  and  through  the  rainbow  fall. 


315aiae 


O,  tender  are  the  gods,  and  deep  their  scorn, 
Who  write  their  wisdom  on  the  child's  new  heart ! 

The  temple  that  saluted  them  at  morn, 
Ruined  and  bare,  silent  they  let  depart. 


50          MAN:   WRITTEN   AT    RAVENNA 


:  Written  at  Habenna 


A  STRANGER  to  earth's  lands, 
A  suppliant  to  her  years, 
He  claps  his  childish  hands, 
He  drops  his  boyish  tears. 
At  last  life's  hope  appears  ; 
For  gold  he  sifts  the  sands, 
For  truth  he  charts  the  spheres. 
Earth  takes  his  shrivelled  hands, 
Shuts  eyes  too  old  for  tears ; 
Earth,  weary  in  all  her  lands 
And  dumb  through  all  her  years. 


NAY,  SOUL" 


NAY,  Soul,  so  travel-worn, 
Begging  from  door  to  door, 
Forever  beggared  more 
And  sickening  with  self-scorn, 
Art  thou  so  poor,  thou  born 
Of  all  the  times  before  ? 

Who  heeds  thy  dumb  demands  ? 
Thy  passion  or  thy  fears  ? 
Though  thou  hast  wet  with  tears 
Beloved  and  alien  hands, 
Thy  want  who  understands  ? 
Thy  misery  who  reveres  ? 

Nay,  Soul,  thy  shame  forbear  ! 
Between  the  earth  and  sky 
Was  never  man  could  buy 
The  bread  of  life  with  prayer, 
Not  though  his  brother  there 
Saw  him  with  hunger  die. 


52  "NAY,   SOUL" 

His  life  a  man  may  give ; 
But  not  for  deepest  ruth 
Beauty,  nor  love,  nor  truth, 
Whereby  himself  doth  live. 
Come  home,  poor  fugitive  ! 
Art  thou  so  poor,  forsooth? 

One  justice  has  been  done 
To  all  who  draw  life's  breath ; 
Thee  heaven  encompasseth, 
And  the  impartial  sun 
Now  as  in  Babylon 
Lights  up  the  way  to  death. 

Is  not  the  world  thy  own, 
Whole  as  in  Plato's  mind  ? 
Know  surely  thou  must  find 
Therein  thyself  alone 
The  archetype  unknown, 
Or  be  forever  blind. 

Thy  past  —  there  may  thy  eyes, 
As  Dante's,  well  in  well, 
Travel  the  slopes  of  hell ; 


"NAY,  SOUL"  53 

There  see  thy  angels  rise 
Where,  choir  in  choir,  they  dwell 
Round  God,  like  folded  skies. 

Thy  heart  —  look  thou  aright  ! 
Fear  not  the  wild  untrod, 
Nor  birth,  nor  burial  sod  ! 
Look,  and  in  native  light, 
Bare  as  to  Christ's  own  sight, 
Living  shalt  thou  see  God. 

Nay,  Soul,  what  mockery  this, 
To  have  so  vainly  striven, 
Knocking  at  earth  and  heaven 
For  largess  of  the  bliss 
That  in  thy  being  is, 
And  with  thy  birth  was  given. 

In  thy  own  self  ascend ; 
Cast  staff  and  scrip  away ; 
Leave  to  the  dead  decay, 
The  living  to  their  end ; 
Leave  poet,  priest,  and  friend ; 
Thou  shalt  find  peace  to-day. 


54       THE   HUNDREDTH   ANNIVERSARY 


of 
l&e&olution 


SHE  matched  the  world  in  arms  against  man's  right, 
And  when  the  Fates  would  stay  victorious  France, 
With  her  own  conquests  must  they  dull  her  lance, 
And  legions  worn  with  fadeless  battles  smite. 
O  laugher  at  the  shocks  of  time,  her  might 
Rejoiced  in  more  than  arms  !  the  great  advance 
Through  Europe  of  her  triple  ordinance 
Man  owes  to  her.  —  O  Century,  born  to-night, 
Fulfil  her  glory  !     Europe  still  hath  slaves, 
Scourged  by  the  Turk,  mown  by  the  Scythian  car  ; 
Siberia,  more  rich  in  heroes'  graves 
Than  the  most  famous  field  of  glorious  war, 
Yet  waits  ;  and  by  the  bloody  Cretan  waves 
Man  suffers  hope,  and  pleads  his  woe  afar. 


TO   THE   ROMAN    PONTIFF  55 


rtie  i&oman  pontiff  on  tlje  Discipline  of 
jfatljer 


THE  German  tyrant  plays  thee  for  his  game  ; 
Italy  curbs  thee  ;  France  gives  little  rest  ; 
And  o'er  the  broad  sea  dost  thou  think  to  tame 
God's  young  plantation  in  the  virgin  West  ? 
Three  kingdoms  did  He  sift  to  find  the  seed, 
And  sowed  ;  then  open  threw  the  sea's  wide  door  ; 
And  millions  came,  used  but  to  starve  and  bleed, 
And  built  the  great  republic  of  the  poor. 
Remember  Dover  Strait  that  shore  from  thee 
Whole  empires,  hidden  in  the  banked-up  clouds 
Of  England's  greatness  !     Of  all  lands  are  we, 
But  chiefly  northmen  ;  still  their  might  unshrouds 
The  fates  j  dream  not  their  children  of  this  sod 
Cease  to  be  freemen  when  they  bow  to  God  ! 


56  OUR   FIRST   CENTURY 


Century 


IT  cannot  be  that  men  who  are  the  seed 

Of  Washington  should  miss  fame's  true  applause  ; 

Franklin  did  plan  us  ;  Marshall  gave  us  la\vs  ; 

And  slow  the  broad  scroll  grew  a  people's  creed  — 

Union  and  Liberty  !  then  at  our  need, 

Time's  challenge  coming,  Lincoln  gave  it  pause, 

Upheld  the  double  pillars  of  the  cause, 

And  dying  left  them  whole  —  our  crowning  deed. 

Such  was  the  fathering  race  that  made  all  fast, 

Who  founded  us,  and  spread  from  sea  to  sea 

A  thousand  leagues  the  zone  of  liberty, 

And  built  for  man  this  refuge  from  his  past, 

Unkinged,  unchurched,  unsoldiered  ;  shamed  were  we, 

Failing  the  stature  that  such  sires  forecast  ! 


TOO   SANGUINE   PATRIOTISM  57 


toljo  reprotoea  t\)t  author  for  too 
Sanguine  patriotism 


THE  riches  of  a  nation  are  her  dead 
Whom  she  hath  borne  to  be  her  memory 
Against  her  passing,  when  that  time  shall  be, 
And  in  the  Caesars'  tomb  she  makes  her  bed  ; 
And  oft  of  such  decay  in  books  I've  read  — 
Carthage  or  Venice,  who  had  wealth  as  we  ; 
Yet,  all  too  wise  for  patriots,  blame  not  me  ! 
I  know  a  nation's  gold  is  not  man's  bread. 
But  rather  from  itself  the  heart  infers 
That  ached  when  Lincoln  died  !  those  boyish  tears 
Still  keep  my  breast  untraitored  by  its  fears  ; 
Farragut,  Phillips,  Grant  —  I  saw  them  shine, 
Names  worthy  to  have  filled  old  Virgil's  line  ; 
If  I  prove  false,  it  is  the  future  errs. 


58  SHELLEY'S   HOUSE 


THOU,  last,  O  Lerice,  receive  my  song  : 
Ilex  and  olive  on  the  gleaming  steep 
Gray-green,  descend  to  kiss  the  brilliant  deep 
Beautiful  with  clear  winds  ;  the  golden  leap 
Of  the  far-snowing  blue,  with  horned  sweep, 
Pours  to  yon  purple  sea-valley  asleep, 
Between  fair  mountains  locked ;  and  noon's  high  blaze 
Turns  to  one  melting  sapphire  all  light's  rays, 
Wherein  the  wild  wind  blows,  the  wild  wave  strays, 
While  ocean  from  his  azure  censer  sprays 
Each  scarlet  poppy  that  the  shore  embays 
Mid  thickets  of  the  rose  ;  and  all  day  long 
The  nightingales  are  waking,  loud  and  strong, 
Warbling  unseen  their  unremitting  song 
Round  Shelley's  house,  lest  here  I  suffer  wrong, 
This  day  that  gave  me  birth,  pierced  by  the  prong 
Of  absence,  misery,  loss  ;  and,  lest  I  weep, 
Color  and  light  and  music  round  me  keep 
Life's  crystal,  and  this  day  of  all  my  days 
To  be  a  temple  of  the  soul  upraise, 


SHELLEY'S   HOUSE  59 

Where  I  may  breathe  and  throb  and  muse,  and  long 
Brood  on  the  loves  that  to  my  bosom  throng ; 
And  from  these  splendors  of  earth,  sea,  and  air, 
Like  Uriel  issuing  from  the  glorious  sphere 
That  hides  him  with  great  beauty,  everywhere 
I  feel  the  might  of  song  that  once  dwelt  here, 
A  shadow  of  loveliness  approaching  near, 
A  fragrance  in  the  unseen  atmosphere, 
An  intimate  presence  in  the  darkness  dear ; 
I  see,  and  see  not !  O,  the  sweet,  the  fair 
Melodious  death  my  sea-borne  soul  should  bear 
With  yon  blue  waters  whelmed,  to  meet  him  there, 
My  poet !  —  yet  rather  life  to  me  belong  !  — 
Sing,  nightingales,  flood  the  blind  world  with  song  ! 


WILD    EDEN 


J 


WILD    EDEN 
ate  fyt  tlaurel  ana  is? 


Is  it  a  dream  that  the  world  is  fair? 

And  the  voice  in  my  blood's  melodious  beat,  — 

Is  it  only  in  dreams  heard  smooth  and  fleet? 

Lightly  singing,  "  Somewhere,  somewhere, 

There  is  one  who  shall  make  thy  whole  life  sweet, 

Making  all  beautiful  things  complete 

With  the  fairest  of  things  found  fair  !  " 

I  drank  at  dawn  the  Muses'  breath ; 
In  boyhood's  blossom  and  flood 
I  bit  the  laurel ;  I  know  till  death 
Its  poison  will  flow  in  my  blood. 
Into  my  speech  a  glory  slips ; 
A  throbbing  pains  my  side ; 
One  is  the  breath  of  the  Muses'  lips ; 
One  is  the  laurel  —  woe  betide  ! 
All  day  my  perilous  pulses  keep 
A  music  sweeter  than  the  spheres ; 
63 


64  WILD   EDEN 

All  day,  all  night,  heart-high  they  leap, 

They  witch  my  eyes  with  hopes  and  fears. 

I  bit  the  laurel  so  deep,  so  deep, 

That  every  lovely  thing  appears 

A  spirit  clad  in  maidenhood,  — 

The  glamour  flies  on  Dian's  foot, 

And  music  rushes  through  the  wood. 

So  long  I  ate  Apollo's  root, 

There  shooteth  through  me,  blood  and  brain, 

A  burning  bliss,  by  day,  by  night,  — 

Here  —  there  —  her  face  !  —  if  love  be  pain, 

Tis  pain  exceeding  all  delight ! 

For  who  the  laurel-madness  hath 

Shall  hold  the  vision-haunted  path, 

Searching  with  song  the  whole  world  through, 

Where  spreads  the  green,  where  rolls  the  blue. 

A  maiden  draws  me,  feet  and  eyes, 

The  way  by  happy  lovers  ranged  ; 

And,  maiden-touched,  my  sweet  youth  dies 

To  sweeter  manhood,  maiden-changed. 

Though  I  be  mad,  I  shall  not  wake ; 

I  shall  not  fall  to  common  sight ; 

Only  the  god  himself  may  take 

This  music  out  of  my  blood,  this  glory  out  of  my  breath, 


HE  ATE   THE  LAUREL  AND  IS   MAD     65 

This  lift,  this  rapture,  this  singing  might, 
And  love  that  outlasts  death. 


I  shall  go  singing,  blood  and  brain, 

I  shall  make  music  of  voice  and  lyre, 

Triumphs  of  sorrow,  paeans  of  pain, 

And  at  every  fall  shall  the  song  leap  higher ; 

Whether  through  Love  victorious  made, 

Or  in  his  victories  victim -laid, 

Him  will  I  praise,  whatever  fates  are, 

On  my  lips  the  flower,  in  my  eyes  the  star, 

My  heart  his  passion,  my  soul  his  flame,  — 

Love,  our  divine  and  intimate  lord, 

Who  out  of  the  infinite,  all-adored, 

Into  the  heart  of  nature  came, 

With  splendor  of  ten  million  suns ; 

And  instant  back  his  longing  runs 

Through  bud  and  billow,  through  drift  and  blaze, 

Through    thought,   through    prayer,   the    thousand 

ways 

The  spirit  journeys  from  despair ; 
He  sees  all  things  that  they  are  fair, 
But  feels  them  as  the  daisied  sod,  — 
This  slumbrous  beauty,  this  light,  this  room, 

F 


66  WILD   EDEN 

The  chrysalis  and  broken  tomb 
He  cleaveth  on  his  way  to  God. 

I  shall  go  singing  over-seas  : 

"  The  million  years  of  the  planet's  increase, 

All  pangs  of  death,  all  cries  of  birth, 

Are  clasped  at  one  by  the  heart  of  the  earth." 

I  shall  go  singing  by  tower  and  town  : 
"  The  thousand  cities  of  men  that  crown 
Empire  slow-rising  from  horde  and  clan 
Are  clasped  at  one  by  the  heart  of  man." 

I  shall  go  singing  by  flower  and  brier : 
"  The  multitudinous  stars  of  fire, 
And  man  made  infinite  under  the  sod, 
Are  clasped  at  one  by  the  heart  of  God." 

I  shall  go  singing  up  ice  and  snow : 

"  Blow  soon,  dread  angel,  greatly  blow, 

Break  up,  ye  gulfs,  beneath,  above, 

Peal,  time's  last  music,  — '  love,  love,  love  '  ! " 

And  wheresoever  my  feet  shall  rest, 

The  place  shall  be  named  of  the  lovers'  guest ; 


HE   ATE  THE  LAUREL  AND  IS  MAD     67 

And  where  in  the  night  I  journey  on, 
The  place  shall  be  called  of  the  lover  gone  ; 
My  life  shall  be  as  a  sweet  song  sung, 
My  death  as  a  knell  by  maidens  rung, 
Lightly  singing,  "  Somewhere,  somewhere, 
There  is  one  to  make  thy  whole  life  sweet, 
Making  all  beautiful  things  complete 
With  the  fairest  of  things  found  fair  !  " 
And  before  the  silence  wholly  fall, 
Faintly  shall  soft  echoes  call, 
Syllabling  some  heavenly  air, 
As  if  my  spirit  lingered  there  — 
"  Found  fair  —  found  fair  —  found  fair  ! " 


68  WILD   EDEN 

jflofcw  before  t^e  tleaf 

i 

FLOWER  before  the  leaf,  boy-loved  Rhodora, 
Morning-pink  along  the  valley  of  the  birch  and  maple  ; 
Now  the  green  begins  to  cling  about  the  silver  birches  ; 
Burst  the  maples ;  reddens  yonder  hillside  ; 
Sudden  as  the  babbling  brook  or  robin's  whistle, 
Spring-swift,  thou  art  come  in  the  old  places, 
In  the  hollow  swamp-land,  bloom  on  brake  ! 

Flower  before  the  leaf ! 

Ah,  once  here  in  the  sweet  season  — 

Flash  of  blue  wings,  birds  in  chorus, 

Ere  the  violet,  ere  the  wild-rose, 

While  the  linden  lingered  and  the  elm  tree  — 

Years  ago  a  boy's  heart  broke  in  blossom, 

Flower  before  the  leaf, 

While  he  wandered  down  the  valley  loving  you ; 

And  above  him,  and  around  him, 

Beam  and  gleam  and  distant  color, 

Waiting,  waiting,  hung  the  Spirit 

To  rush  forth  upon  the  world. 


FLOWER   BEFORE   THE  LEAF  69 

II 

SOMEWHERE  in  the  years  of  the  dawn  did  I  dream  that  a 

youth  all  boy-like  stands  ?  — 
And  the  tender  Rhodora's  bloom,  the  first  of  the  year,  is 

red  in  his  pure,  sweet  hands ; 
And  in  the  doorway  bending,  dark-haired,  bright-cheeked, 

a  girlish  form  appears,  — 
A  word,  a  smile,  a  blush,  and  out  of  the  blue  a  black 

bird  downward  steers,  — 
And  all  the  spirits  rush  to  his  heart,  and  the  fragrant 

world,  save  her,  turns  dim, 
The  flowering  of  whose  face   was   the   glory  of  spring 

through  the  years  of  the  dawn  to  him  ! 


70  WILD   EDEN 


OTtla 


THERE  is  a  garden  enclosed 

In  the  high  places, 
But  never  hath  love  reposed 

In  its  bowery  spaces  ; 
And  the  cedars  there  like  shadows 

O'er  the  moonlit  champaign  stand 

Till  light  like  an  angel's  hand 
Touches  Wild  Eden. 

Who  told  me  the  name  of  the  garden 

That  lieth  remote,  apart, 
I  know  not,  nor  whence  was  the  music 

That  sang  it  into  my  heart ; 
But  just  as  the  loud  robin  tosses 

His  notes  from  the  elm  tops  high, 
As  the  violets  come  in  the  mosses 

When  south  winds  wake  and  sigh, 
So  on  my  lips  I  found  it, 

This  name  that  is  made  my  cry. 


WILD   EDEN  71 

There,  under  the  stars  and  the  dawns 

Of  the  virginal  valleys, 
White  lilies  flood  the  low  lawns 

And  the  rose  lights  the  alleys ; 
But  never  are  heard  there  the  voices 

That  sweeten  on  lovers'  lips, 

And  the  wild  bee  never  sips 
Sweets  of  Wild  Eden. 

But  who  hath  shown  me  the  vision 

Of  the  roses  and  lilies  in  ranks 
I  would  that  I  knew,  that  forever 

To  him  I  might  render  thanks ; 
For  a  maiden  grows  there  in  her  blossom, 

In  the  place  of  her  maidenhood, 
Nor  knows  how  her  virgin  bosom 

Is  stored  with  the  giving  of  good, 
For  the  truth  is  hidden  from  her 

That  of  love  is  understood. 

No  bird  with  his  mate  there  hovers, 
Nor  beside  her  has  trilled  or  sung ; 

No  bird  in  the  dewy  covers 
Has  built  a  nest  for  his  young ; 


7 2  WILD   EDEN 

And  over  the  dark-leaved  mountains 
The  voice  in  the  laurel  sleeps  ; 
And  the  moon  broods  on  the  deeps 
Shut  in  Wild  Eden. 

O  Love,  if  thou  in  thy  hiding 

Art  he  who  above  me  stands, 
If  thou  givest  wings  to  my  spirit, 

If  thou  art  my  heart  and  my  hands,  — 
Through  the  morn,  through  the  noon,  through  the  even 

That  burns  with  thy  planet  of  light, 
Through  the  moonlit  space  of  heaven, 

Guide  thou  my  flight 
Till,  star-like  on  the  dark  garden, 

I  fall  in  the  night ! 

Fly,  song  of  my  bosom,  unto  it 

Wherever  the  earth  breathes  spring  ; 
Though  a  thousand  years  were  to  rue  it, 

Such  a  heart  beats  under  thy  wing, 
Thou  shalt  dive,  thou  shalt  soar,  thou  shalt  find  it, 

And  forever  my  life  be  blest, 

Such  a  heart  beats  in  my  breast,  — 
Fly  to  Wild  Eden  ! 


THE   BIRTH   OF  LOVE  73 


U5trfy  of  ILofce 


'Tis  joy  to  feel  the  spirit  leap 
Angelic  from  its  childhood  sleep, 
Pure  as  a  star,  fair  as  a  flower, 
Eager  with  youth's  unblasted  power  ; 
Where  every  sense  gives  soft  consent, 
To  burst  into  love's  element  ; 
To  be  all  touch,  all  eye,  all  ear, 
And  pass  into  love's  burning  sphere. 


74  WILD   EDEN 


first  31  0ato 


WHEN  first  I  saw  her,  at  the  stroke 
The  heart  of  nature  in  me  spoke  ; 
The  very  landscape  smiled  more  sweet, 
Lit  by  her  eyes,  pressed  by  her  feet  ; 
She  made  the  stars  of  heaven  more  bright 
By  sleeping  under  them  at  night  ; 
And  fairer  made  the  flowers  of  May 
By  being  lovelier  than  they. 

O,  soft,  soft,  where  the  sunshine  spread, 
Dark  in  the  grass  I  laid  my  head  ; 
And  let  the  lights  of  earth  depart 
To  find  her  image  in  my  heart  ; 
Then  through  my  being  came  and  went 
Tones  of  some  heavenly  instrument, 
As  if  where  its  blind  motions  roll 
This  world  should  wake  and  be  a  soul. 


THE   SECRET  75 


NIGHTINGALES  warble  about  it 

All  night  under  blossom  and  star  ; 
The  wild  swan  is  dying  without  it, 

And  the  eagle  crieth  afar  ; 
The  sun,  he  doth  mount  but  to  find  it, 

Searching  the  green  earth  o'er  ; 
But  more  doth  a  man's  heart  mind  it  — 

O  more,  more,  more  ! 

Over  the  gray  leagues  of  ocean 

The  infinite  yearneth  alone  ; 
The  forests  with  wandering  emotion 

The  thing  they  know  not  intone  j 
Creation  arose  but  to  see  it, 

A  million  lamps  in  the  blue  ; 
But  a  lover,  he  shall  be  it, 

If  one  sweet  maid  is  true. 


76  WILD   EDEN 


O,  INEXPRESSIBLE  ES  SWCCt, 

Love  takes  my  voice  away ; 
I  cannot  tell  thee  when  we  meet 
What  most  I  long  to  say. 

But  hadst  thou  hearing  in  thy  heart 

To  know  what  beats  in  mine, 
Then  shouldst  thou  walk,  where'er  thou  art, 

In  melodies  divine. 

So  warbling  birds  lift  higher  notes 

Than  to  our  ears  belong ; 
The  music  fills  their  throbbing  throats, 

But  silence  steals  the  song. 


THE   SEA-SHELL    ,  77 


MY  love  o'erflows  with  joy  divine 

The  ocean-girdled  hills ; 
And  with  my  breath  each  blowing  pine 

And  combing  breaker  fills ; 
The  shadows  of  my  spirit  move 

The  far,  blue  coast  along, 
Where  of  wild  beauty  first  I  wove 

The  rainbow  woof  of  song ; 
On  these  great  beaches  of  the  North 

My  voices  shoreward  roll, 
And  when  the  blessed  stars  come  forth, 

All  heaven  is  made  my  scroll. 

I  take  the  wings  of  morn  ;  I  soar 

Above  the  ocean  plain  ; 
From  fountains  of  the  sun  I  pour 

My  passion's  golden  rain ; 
And  when  black  tempest  heaven  shrouds, 

On  eastern  thunders  far 


78  WILD   EDEN 

I  show  the  rainbow  in  the  clouds, 

And  give  the  West  her  star ; 
Soft  blow  the  winds  o'er  fallen  showers, 

And,  cool  with  fragrance,  sleep 
Lies  breathing  through  the  chambered  hours ; 

I  only  wake  and  weep. 

O  mystic  Love  !  that  so  can  take 

The  bright  world  in  thy  hands, 
And  its  imprisoned  spirits  make 

Murmur  at  thy  commands  ; 
As  if,  in  truth,  this  orb  of  law 

Were  but  thy  reed-hung  nest, 
Woven  by  Time  of  sticks  and  straw 

To  house  the  summer  guest ; 
And  so  to  me  the  starry  sphere 

Is  but  love's  frail  sea-shell; 
O,  might  she  press  it  to  her  ear, 

What  would  its  murmurs  tell ! 


THE   ROSE  OF   STARS  79 


tEtje  Hose  of 


WHEN  Love,  our  great  Immortal, 

Put  on  mortality, 
And  down  from  Eden's  portal 

Brought  this  sweet  life  to  be, 
At  the  sublime  archangel 

He  laughed  with  veiled  eyes, 
For  he  bore  within  his  bosom 

The  seed  of  Paradise. 

He  hid  it  in  his  bosom, 

And  there  such  warmth  it  found, 
It  brake  in  bud  and  blossom, 

And  the  rose  fell  on  the  ground  ; 
As  the  green  light  on  the  prairie, 

As  the  red  light  on  the  sea, 
Through  fragrant  belts  of  summer 

Came  this  sweet  life  to  be. 

And  the  grave  archangel  seeing 
Spread  his  mighty  wings  for  flight, 


8o  WILD   EDEN 

But  the  glow  hung  round  him  fleeing 
Like  the  rose  of  an  Arctic  night ; 

And  sadly  moving  heavenward 
By  Venus  and  by  Mars, 

He  heard  the  joyful  planets 
Hail  Earth,  the  Rose  of  Stars. 


THE   ROSE   BOWER  81 


A  CRIMSON  bower  the  garden  glows, 

In  overhanging  noon,  intense  and  bare, 

Enisled  and  bathed  in  silence  and  repose, 

As  it  were  mirrored  on  the  azure  air ; 

All  molten  lies  the  faint  blue-shimmering  deep, 

Impalpably  transparent,  smooth  with  light ; 

Far  in  the  fragrant  pines  the  hot  winds  sleep ; 

And  nothing  moves,  and  all  dark  things  are  bright. 

Yet  is  this  fair  round  of  tranquillity, 

This  swathe  of  color,  wheresoe'er  it  be, 

The  burning  shell  of  elemental  strife  ; 

And  never  yet  so  fleeting  seemed  sweet  life ; 

So  fragile  this  thin  film  of  human  eyes, 

In  whose  slight  orb  are  springtime  and  sunrise ; 

So  perishable  this  incandescent  frame, 

Lone  Nature's  inextinguishable  pyre 

Of  transitory  loveliness  and  bliss,  — 

This  undulating  and  eternal  flame 

Of  beauty  burning  in  its  perfumed  fire, 

And  passion  dying  in  its  tropic  kiss. 


82  WILD   EDEN 

Even  now  the  sweet-hued  vision  sinks  away, 
And  from  these  bathing  flames  of  night  and  day, 
As  in  my  hour  to  come  it  soon  may  seem 
When  fades  to  ashes  earth's  majestic  dream, 
My  soul  springs  up  erect,  alone,  supreme, 
And,  passing  from  this  glory,  doth  survey, 
As  some  spent  meteor's  low  and  dying  gleam, 
This  radiant  life  that  burns  all  else  away, 
Consuming  its  own  star ;  a  moment,  where 
About  my  feet  morning  and  evening  flare, 
My  spirit  gazes,  still  a  stranger  there, 
On  this  dear  human  home,  so  sweet,  so  fair, 
Nor  yet  unfolds  aloft  eternal  wings. 
Then  slowly  lapsing  into  sensuous  things, 
Once  more  do  I  inhale  this  glorious  light, 
Breathe  the  soft  air  and  feel  the  flowering  earth, 
And  on  me  comes  the  everlasting  sea, 
Purple  horizons,  emerald-hanging  woods, 
The  rose  bower,  and  love's  blissful  solitudes, 
Where  voices  of  eternity 
Have  wandered  from  my  birth, 
And  nothing  save  love's  mystery 
Shines  with  immortal  worth. 


THE   MESSAGE  83 


So  fair  the  world  about  me  lies, 
So  pure  is  heaven  above, 
Ere  so  much  beauty  dies 
I  would  give  a  gift  to  my  love ; 
Now,  ere  the  long  day  close, 
That  has  been  so  full  of  bliss, 
I  will  send  to  my  love  the  rose, 
In  its  leaves  I  will  shut  a  kiss ; 
A  rose  in  the  night  to  perish, 
A  kiss  through  life  to-  cherish  ; 
Now,  ere  the  night-wind  blows, 
I  will  send  unto  her  the  rose. 


84  WILD   EDEN 


Hose 


0  LOVE'S  star  over  Eden, 
How  pale  and  faint  thou  art  ! 

Now  lost,  now  seen  above, 
Thy  white  rays  point  and  dart. 

O,  liquid  o'er  her  move, 

Shine  out  and  take  my  part  ! 

1  have  sent  her  the  rose  of  love, 

And  shut  in  the  rose  is  my  heart. 

The  fireflies  glitter  and  rush 

In  the  dark  of  the  summer  mead  ; 
Pale  on  the  hawthorn  bush, 

Bright  on  the  larkspur  seed  ; 
And  long  is  heaven  aflush 

To  give  my  rose  god-speed  ; 
If  she  breathe  a  kiss,  it  will  blush  ; 

If  she  bruise  a  leaf,  it  will  bleed. 

O  bright  star  over  Eden, 
All  beautiful  thou  art  ; 


THE   ROSE  85 

To-day,  in  the  rose,  the  rose, 

For  my  love  I  have  perilled  my  heart ; 
Now,  ere  the  dying  glows 

From  the  placid  isles  depart, 
The  rose-bathed  planet  knows 

It  is  hers,  my  rose,  my  heart ! 


86  WILD   EDEN 


ILober 


COME  down,  my  love,  from  Eden, 

For  there  all  things  decay, 
Since  in  his  youthful  bosom 

Love  bore  the  seed  away  ; 
Now  leave  the  loveless  garden, 

And  I  will  be  thy  guide 
To  that  world  where  thy  lover 

Shall  never  leave  thy  side. 

Come,  love  ;  in  that  new  country 

The  rose  shall  be  thy  part, 
And  many  a  darling  blossom 

Shall  press  against  thy  heart  ; 
In  a  lily  whiter,  sweeter 

Love  shall  treasure  up  thy  gold  ; 
Lily  and  rose  together 

Thou  to  thy  breast  shalt  fold. 

Come,  love  ;  my  heart  is  burning 
To  reach  unto  thy  hand  ; 


THE  LOVER  87 

Come,  love  ;  my  soul  is  yearning 

For  that  mystical  new  land ; 
Now  where  thy  eyes  are  bending 

Mayst  thou  thy  lover  see 
Midway  the  height  ascending 

That  leadeth  up  to  thee. 


88  WILD   EDEN 


A  VOICE  in  the  roaring  pine  wood, 
A  voice  in  the  breaking  sea, 

A  voice  in  the  storm-red  morning, 
That  will  not  let  me  be. 

It  is  calling  me  to  the  forest, 
It  is  calling  me  to  the  strand, 

The  Weather-spirit  is  calling  me 
To  fare  over  sea  and  land. 

Till  my  cheek  with  the  rain  is  stinging, 
And  my  hand  is  wet  with  the  spray, 

There  is  that  within  my  bosom 
Which  will  not  let  me  stay. 

Might  in  the  pine  wood  tossing, 

Might  on  the  racing  sea, 
The  Weather-spirit,  my  brother, 

Is  calling,  calling,  to  me. 


LOVE'S   CASTAWAY  89 


note's 


ON  isle  and  crag  the  wild-rose  blooms 

Above  the  purple  wave  ; 
Its  lonely  beauty  lights  the  glooms 

Of  many  a  sailor-grave. 
Sad  thought !  but  oft  the  ocean-strain, 

That  wanders  in  my  blood, 
Works  in  the  meditative  brain 

Some  wild  mysterious  mood  ; 
I  leave  the  summer's  pine-soft  track ; 

From  all  of  earth  I  flee  \ 
And  on  dark  tides  my  soul  turns  back 

And  draweth  out  to  sea ; 
And  oft  this  flower  of  wilding  song, 

That  on  the  gray  crag  grew, 
Amid  the  sea-winds  safe  from  wrong, 

And  fed  with  rain  and  dew, 
Seems  but  the  wild-rose  of  the  rock 

That  brightens  day  by  day, 
And  there  outlives  the  tempest's  shock 

To  mourn  the  castaway. 


9° 


WILD   EDEN 

Ah,  if  where  then  the  blue  sea  grieves 

I  lie  beneath  the  rose, 
My  love  will  live  in  its  lone  leaves 

After  a  thousand  snows  ; 
And  every  crag  that  sees  it  blush 

Will  with  my  love-note  ring, 
While  every  bird  within  the  bush 

Pours  this  immortal  spring ; 
And  each  brown  league  of  this  salt  spray 

Shall  lift  my  shrill  sea-cry, 
Where  here  above  love's  castaway 

The  ocean  billows  lie. 


DIVINE  AWE  91 


SDtotne 


To  tremble,  when  I  touch  her  hands, 
With  awe  that  no  man  understands  ; 
To  feel  soft  reverence  arise 
When,  lover-sweet,  I  meet  her  eyes  ; 
To  see  her  beauty  grow  and  shine 
When  most  I  feel  this  awe  divine,  — 
Whate'er  befall  me,  this  is  mine  ; 
And  where  about  the  room  she  moves, 
My  spirit  follows  her,  and  loves. 


92 


WILD   EDEN 


tun  ana 


WHY  wilt  thou  make,  O  Wave, 

Forever  in  from  the  bay  ? 
Dost  thou  seek  on  the  beaches'  grave 

To  cast  thy  life  away  ? 

Why  wilt  thou  blow,  O  Wind, 

Forever  out  to  sea? 
Is  it  death  thou,  too,  wouldst  find, 

O  winged  eternity? 

I  told  my  love  unsped 

To  both  in  the  eventide  ; 
The  wild  Wind  moaned,  and  fled ; 

The  wild  Wave  sobbed,  and  died. 


FAREWELL  93 


O  SNOW-WHITE  birds  aye  calling  me, 
And  must  I  say  farewell ; 

And  past  the  coasts  of  mystery 
Follow  the  dark  sea-swell  ? 

This  shore  was  all  the  world  to  me ; 

And  if  I  say  farewell, 
Its  vague  and  murmuring  minstrelsy 

Shall  house  in  my  Sea-shell. 

And  thou,  Sea- rose,  forget  not  me, 
Though  now  I  say  farewell ; 

And  where  I  lie,  afar  from  thee, 
To  those  who  love  me  tell. 

But,  O  Wild  Eden,  not  to  thee, 

O,  not  to  thee  farewell ; 
Nor  can  the  heart  of  Italy 

Vie  with  thy  maiden-spell ! 


94  WILD   EDEN 


THE  ocean,  storming  on  the  rocks, 
Shepherds  not  there  his  wild,  wet  flocks ; 
The  soaring  ether  nowhere  finds 
An  eyrie  for  the  winged  winds ; 
Nor  has  yon  glittering  sky  a  charm 
To  hive  in  heaven  the  starry  swarm  ; 
And  so  thy  wandering  thoughts,  my  heart, 
No  home  shall  find ;  let  them  depart ! 


NOW   MARBLE   APENNINES    SHINING"      95 


garble  Apennines  fining 


Now  marble  Apennines  shining 

Should  breathe  my  spirit  bare  ; 
My  heart  should  cease  repining 

In  the  rainbow-haunted  air  ; 
But  cureless  sorrow  carries 

My  heart  beyond  the  sea, 
Nor  comfort  in  it  tarries 

Save  thoughts  of  thee. 

The  branch  of  olive  shaken 

Silvers  the  azure  sea  ; 
Winds  in  the  ilex  waken  ; 

O,  wert  thou  here  with  me, 
Gray  olive,  dark  ilex,  bright  ocean, 

The  radiant  mountains  round, 
Never  for  love's  devotion 

Were  sweeter  lodging  found  ! 


96  WILD   EDEN 


8tt  tije  Marm  £>un  parting 

I  SEE  the  warm  sun  parting 

From  all  sweet  things  that  be  j 
The  orange  now  regrets  him, 

With  the  rose  in  company ; 
And  faintly  flushing  darkens 

The  blossomed  almond  tree  ; 
In  every  kiss  he  taketh 

I  seem  to  part  from  thee. 

Dark  lifts  the  palm  tree  yonder 

Its  sharp  spines  on  the  west. 
O  doth  the  birch  now  waken 

And  whisper  of  thy  guest  ? 
O  white  birch,  when  stars  cover 

The  bird  within  thy  nest, 
Dost  thou  sigh  near  her  bosom 

The  longing  of  my  breast  ? 


LOVE   DELAYED  97 


ILobe 


THE  star  that  most  is  mine  once  did  I  see  ; 

No  cloud  there  was  ;  only  the  reddened  air 

Bloomed  round  it  where  it  smiled,  all  bright  and  fair 

Then  most  of  all  love  seemed  divine  to  me. 

So  pure  it  shone  I  could  but  think  of  tliee  ; 

So  rosily  enclasped,  yet  more  must  dare  ; 

"  So  dost  thou  shine,  my  love,"  nor  could  forbear, 

"  So  soft  my  passion  folds  thy  purity  !  " 

But  now  I  see  the  western  star  all  gold 

Hang  o'er  the  high  and  gloomy  Apennine  ; 

And  there  I  read  my  lot  more  truly  told  — 

The  night,  the  penance,  the  far  journey  mine  ! 

Still  be  thou  bright  !  —  My  heart,  all  dark  and  cold, 

Suffers  no  light  save  what  from  thee  doth  shine. 


98  WILD   EDEN 


Confessional 


ONLY  the  lily  shall  shrive  me 

Of  my  passion  and  my  pain  ; 
Only  the  rose  shall  revive  me 
From  death  unto  life  again. 
O  lily,  white  to  see, 
O  rose  of  mystery, 
Hear  me  confess  ! 

I  was  a  lover  from  birth,  — 

Flower  of  the  earth  ! 
Love's  thoughts  were  mine  from  a  boy,  - 

Flower  of  love's  joy  ! 
Love's  words  were  mine  through  youth, 

Flower  of  love's  truth  ! 
Love's  deeds  were  mine,  man-grown,  — 

Flower  of  love's  throne  ! 
Thoughts,  words,  deeds,  were  his,  — 

Flower  of  one  bliss  ! 

I  was  a  lover  from  birth,  — 
Flower  of  the  earth  ! 


LOVE'S   CONFESSIONAL  99 

My  thoughts  were  love's  from  a  boy,  — 

Desire,  not  joy  ! 
My  words  were  love's  through  youth,  — 

Prayer,  not  truth  ! 
My  deeds  were  love's,  man-grown,  — 

Defeat,  not  his  throne  ! 
Thoughts,  words,  deeds,  were  his,  — 

Pain,  not  bliss  ! 

From  my  thoughts  in  which  love  sighs, 
From  my  words  in  which  love  cries, 
From  my  deeds  in  which  love  dies, 

White  lily,  shrive  me  ! 

With  love's  thoughts  wherefrom  joy  springs, 
With  love's  words  wherein  truth  sings, 
With  love's  deeds  wherewith  heaven  rings, 

My  rose,  revive  me  ! 


TOO  WILD   EDEN 


ICE-GORGE  and  mountain  snow, 

And  ere  my  steps  depart, 
The  avalanche  will  leap  and  go 

Into  the  glacier's  heart. 

Ice-cave  and  rainbow-quiver, 

And  blue  from  the  glacier's  mouth 

The  rushing  river,  with  chill  and  shiver, 
Glides  into  the  warmed  South. 

The  sun-tide  sets  to  furthest  North, 

And  ere  my  steps  arrive, 
The  fields  aflood,  and  the  willow  forth, 

And  the  thawed  bees  leave  the  hive. 

Spring,  with  the  almond-blossom  wing 

Brushing  the  Alpine  snows, 
Wing  and  wing,  fly  with  me,  Spring, 

Till  the  Arctic  be  all  one  rose  ; 

And  all  that  is  cold  and  frozen  be  gone, 
And  the  icebergs  melt  in  the  sea  ; 

Till  the  blushing  maid  be  kissed  and  won, 
And  her  cold  heart  melt  in  me  ! 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  101 


tyometoara  liBouna 

INTO  the  west  of  the  waters  on  the  living  ocean's  foam, 
Into  the  west  of  the  sunset  where  the  young  adventurers 

roam, 
Into  the  west  of  the  shining  star,  I  am  sailing,  sailing 

home; 
Home  from  the  lonely  cities,  time's  wreck,  and  the  naked 

woe, 
Home  through  the  clean  great  waters  where  freemen's 

pennants  blow, 
Home  to  the  land  men  dream  of,  where  all  the  nations 

go; 
Tis  home  but  to  be  on  the  waters,  'tis  home  already 

here, 
Through  the  weird  red-billowing  sunset  into  the  west  to 

steer, 
To  fall  to  sleep  in  the  rocking  dark  with  home  a  day  more 

near. 


102  WILD   EDEN 

By  morning  light  the  ship  holds   on,  alive  with   happy 

freight, 
A  thousand  hearts  with  one  still  joy,  and  with  one  hope 

elate, 
To  reach  the  land  that  mothered  them  and  sweetly  guides 

their  fate ; 
Whether  the  purple  furrow  heaps  the  bows  with  dazzling 

spray, 
Or  buried  in  green-based  masses  they  dip  the  storm-swept 

day, 
Or  the  white  fog  ribbons  o'er  them,  the  strong  ship  holds 

her  way ; 
And  when  another  day  is  done,  by  the  star  of  love  we 

steer 
To  the  land  of  all  that  we  love  best  and  all  that  we  hold 

dear; 
We  are  sailing  westward,  homeward ;  our  western  home 

is  near. 


THE   HOMESTEAD  103 


IN  the  high  field  I  used  to  know 
Where  earliest  the  violets  grow, 
I  found  three,  faithful  to  the  rock, 
The  firstlings  of  the  azure  flock. 

The  sun-warmed  ground,  the  soft  salt  air, 
Seemed  still  of  boyhood  lingering  there; 
The  sea-blown  homestead  of  my  race,  — 
What  feelings  filled  the  sacred  place  ! 

I  found  in  tears  'tis  memory  gives 
The  immortal  part  by  which  man  lives  ; 
And  every  flower  I  ponder  on 
Grows  in  a  world  of  beauty  gone. 

Full  many  a  spring  of  buried  bloom 
From  these  faint  violets  sheds  perfume  ; 
And  all  the  summers  of  the  sun 
My  love  remembers,  shine  as  one. 

Ye  hills,  ye  woods  my  boyhood  knew, 
Be  now  my  manhood  dear  to  you  ! 
And  fairer  may  I  ye  behold 
Year  after  year,  as  I  grow  old. 


104  WILD   EDEN 


BEES  in  the  lindens  booming 

In  the  green  core,  out  of  sight, 
In  the  lindens,  yellow-blooming, 

Embosomed  close  as  night ; 
And  nought  is  there  to  see 

Save  the  mellow  emerald's  bright 
Deep-foliaged  lucidity 

Of  music,  bloom,  and  light. 

Bees  in  the  lindens  humming 

Melody  three  days  old, 
"  Midsummer  coming,  coming, 

Autumn,  and  winter,  the  cold  ! " 
The  green  core  ringing  is, 

Rings  the  tiny  blossomed  gold, 
The  lindens  ring  with  bliss 

In  three  days  told. 


C^'Wrrr  ) 

; ,     .f*          OF  f 

'  ^'bt^L  /fo  «5  v  M  f-      <r 

THE   BAT  105 


Bat 


ONE  rich  hollyhock  warden, 
High  in  the  midsummer  garden, 
Motionless  points  its  blossoming  spear 
Up  to  the  honey-pale,  amber-clear 
Dome  of  the  golden  atmosphere, 
Shut  aloft  by  the  foliage-wall, 
Linden,  rock-maple,  elms  over  all, 
Embowering,  umbrageous,  massive,  tall, 
That  make  of  the  garden  a  little  dell, 
A  place  of  slumber  for  blade  and  bell,  — 
Of  sleep  and  circumambient  peace, 
From  the  crimson  hollyhock's  flowered  spire 
To  the  one  deep  rose-plume  drifting  fire, 
Where,  duskily  seen  as  the  shades  increase, 
'Mid  molten  flakes  of  breaking  fleece, 
And  trellised  with  many  a  fading  spark, 
Through  her  summer-lattice  peers  the  dark. 

Midsummer  now,  and  the  black  bat  come 
Who  makes  of  the  garden  his  dim  night-home  ; 


io6  WILD   EDEN 

Familiar  to  me  from  boyhood's  year 

That  gave  me  mated  first-love,  first-fear ; 

And  before  the  wings  of  darkness  seize 

The  blackening  boughs,  he  is  flitting  there, 

Lightly  silhouetting  the  air, 

In  the  hollow  gulf  of  the  trees ; 

Swooping,  careening,  never  alight, 

Swerving,  turning,  in  involute  flight, 

High  and  far  on  the  elm's  black  edge, 

Low  in  the  clefts  of  the  evergreen  hedge ; 

Never  long  come,  never  quite  gone, 

With  poise  and  waver  he  circles  on, 

Darts  and  doubles  and  disappears, 

And  blurs  on  the  eaves  with  gyres  and  veers ; 

And  ever  I  watch  with  charmed  eyes 

The  noiseless  shadow  where  it  flies, 

The  strange  lone  guest  of  the  branched  gloom, 

Weaving  over  the  garden  in  bloom 

In  the  silence  and  darkness  of  the  night 

His  great  gray  loops  of  flight. 

O'er  summers  many  the  flower-mould  lies, 
Since  first,  with  night-awakened  eyes, 
I  hunt  the  dark  where  the  shadow  flies ; 


THE   BAT  107 

Midsummers  many  the  woven  charm, 

Weirdly  weaving,  wrought  in  me 

Phantoms  of  fore- felt  misery ; 

Now  many  a  year  and  many  a  grief 

Lie  buried  under  the  yellow  leaf; 

And  the  garden  now  were  scarce  the  same 

Unless  the  friendless  creature  came, 

My  shadow-playmate  of  long  past  time, 

Where  lonesome  thought  and  darksome  hour 

Hung  over  the  midsummer  in  flower, 

Ere  the  sun-tide  ebbed  from  the  northern  clime, 

And  the  chill  of  the  year  made  into  the  bower. 

Dark  comrade  of  the  vanished  prime, 

Dark  omen  of  misfortune  near, 

The  past,  the  future,  dark  appear 

Beneath  his  ever-falling  rings. 

But  O,  may  never  come  hurt  nor  harm 

To  the  least  little  tender  film  of  his  hunch-back 

wings  ! 

Something  to  me  the  black  bat  brings 
I  should  miss  were  he  never  to  come  again, 
The  prisoner  of  this  nighted  frame ; 
Nor  how  were  life  without  death  dear, 
Earth  without  sorrow,  love  without  pain, 


WILD   EDEN 

And  scarce  this  human  heart  the  same 
Unvisited  by  fear. 

Midnight  now,  and  my  song-in-bloom, 
Like  the  night-hid  hollyhock,  lifts  its  spear 
From  the  master-soul,  past  beauty,  past  gloom, 
To  the  midsummer  midnight  majestic,  clear, — 
And  the  far  roll  of  the  sea  I  hear ; 
And  the  black  bat  flits  a  mote  obscure 
In  the  song  where  star  and  sea  endure. 

O  black  bat,  what  were  thy  omen  true? — 
My  day  hath  the  garden,  my  night  hath  you. 


THE   HUMMING-BIRD  109 


BIRD  in  the  flower, 
Blossom-spirit, 
Whose  tiny  power 
Doth  the  rainbow  inherit, 
A  breathless  minute 
Flower-like  in  it 
Hang  in  the  flower. 

Ruby-throat  rover 
Of  noon's  blue  hour, 
Making  music  so  sphere-like 
Only  silence  can  hear  it, 
Sung  to  the  flower  ; 
Faery  resonance  clear,  like 
The  garden's  bell- tower 
Heard  through  the  bower. 

Larkspur-lover, 
Deep  in  the  flower, 


no  WILD    EDEN 

With  secret  blisses, 
Aerial  kisses, 
Over  and  over ; 
Swift  goer,  swift  comer, 
Heart  of  the  summer 
A-wing  on  the  flower. 


Could  heart  discover 
Thy  love-fast  power, 
So  near  to  hover, 
So  close  to  love  her, 
Deep  in  the  flower, 
With  hid  blisses 
And  silent  kisses, 
O,  it  were  heaven 
To  be  such  a  lover  ! 


How  should  she  fear  it, 
The  rainbow  spirit, 
Nor  love  to  be  near  it, 
Flower-like  immure  it, 
Love  in  life's  flower ; 
Feed  it  and  lure  it, 


THE   HUMMING-BIRD  m 

The  ruby  rover, 
One  golden  hour, 
And  over  and  over, 
Home  to  her  bower  ! 

Love,  the  song- spirit, 
Alone  to  hear  it 
There  in  her  bower ; 
Bright-bodied  above  her, 
Hark,  the  true  lover  ! 
What  passion  he  sings, 
The  sphere's  own  music 
From  the  heartstrings  !  — 
Art  thou  gone,  swift  wings, 
The  bird  from  the  flower? 


ii2  WILD   EDEN 


IT  was  only  the  clinging  touch 

Of  a  child's  hand  in  the  street, 

But  it  made  the  whole  day  sweet ; 

Caught,  as  he  ran  full-speed, 

In  my  own  stretched  out  to  his  need, 

Caught,  and  saved  from  the  fall, 

As  I  held,  for  the  moment's  poise, 

In  my  circling  arms  the  whole  boy's 

Delicate  slightness,  warmed  mould; 

Mine,  for  an  instant  mine, 

The  sweetest  thing  the  heart  can  divine, 

More  precious  than  fame  or  gold, 

The  crown  of  many  joys, 

Lay  in  my  breast,  all  mine. 

I  was  nothing  to  him ; 

He  neither  looked  up  nor  spoke  ; 

I  never  saw  his  eyes  ; 

He  was  gone  ere  my  mind  awoke 


THE   CHILD  113 

From  the  action's  quick  surprise 
With  vision  blurred  and  dim. 

You  say  I  ask  too  much  : 

It  was  only  the  clinging  touch 

Of  a  child  in  a  city  street ; 

It  hath  made  the  whole  day  sweet. 


n4  WILD    EDEN 


To  take  the  life,  and  stay  the  stream  thereof; 

To  be  the  flower  but  not  the  seed  of  love ; 

The  voice,  but  not  the  heaven-homing  song ; 

The  instrument,  but  not  what  doth  belong 

Unto  the  instrument  as  song  to  breath, 

Its  utterance  of  the  chords  of  life  and  death, 

The  music  born  of  it,  its  own  soul-birth,  — 

This  is  to  make  thy  body  bankrupt  earth, 

And  in  thy  soul  annul  the  law  divine, 

For  in  the  blood-tie  love  doth  holiest  shine ; 

And  life  from  life,  to  give  and  to  receive, 

For  mortals  is  love's  true  prerogative ; 

His  sacred  power  lies  there ;  thence  flows  his  grace, 

Diffused  and  deathless  in  a  dying  race, 

And  ever  building,  out  of  touch  and  sight, 

The  immortal  world,  with  all  we  worship  bright ; 

O,  ponder  this,  before  death  to  thee  come, 

And  childless  eld,  —  no  hand  to  lead  thee  home. 


FROM   THE   YOUNG   ORCHARDS"     115 


"  jfjtom  rtje  looting 


FROM  the  young  orchards,  thick  with  rosy  spray, 
Falls  in  the  windless  night  the  wreath  of  May  ; 
And  the  young  maples,  fresh  with  early  gold, 
In  one  slow  moon  their  emerald  globes  unfold  ; 
So  grows,  through  happy  change,  the  tree  of  life. 

The  arbutus  unto  the  violet  yields  ; 

Soon  the  wild  daisies  flood  the  fluttering  fields  ; 

And  last  the  cardinal  and  the  golden-rod 

Lift  to  the  blue  the  soft  fire  of  the  sod  ; 

So  moves,  from  bloom  to  bloom,  the  flower  of  love. 

O,  hidden-strange  as  on  dew-heavy  lawns 

The  warm  dark  scents  of  summer-  fragrant  dawns  ; 

O,  tender  as  the  faint  sea-changes  are, 

When  grows  the  flush  and  pales  the  snow-white  star  ; 

So  strange,  so  tender,  to  a  maid  is  love. 

O,  calling  as  the  touch  of  children's  hands, 

That  draw  all  wanderers  home  o'er  seas  and  lands  ; 


n6  WILD   EDEN 

O,  answering  far  as  from  the  world  divine, 

Whence   unseen  hands  through  Time  and  Space  touch 

mine; 
So  in  my  breast  I  hear  the  voice  of  love. 

The  Eden-heart  of  this  majestic  frame, 
God's  will  on  earth,  and  flame  within  the  flame 
Far  as  yon  suns  in  Nature's  mystic  dusks, 
Deep  as  the  life  whereof  our  lives  are  husks  — 
Unspeakable,  O  love,  my  love,  is  love. 


O,  STRUCK  BENEATH  THE  LAUREL"    117 


"  ®,  Struck  beneatlj  tlje  laurel " 

O,  STRUCK  beneath  the  laurel,  where  the  singing  fountains 

are, 

I  saw  from  heaven  falling  the  star  of  love  afar ; 
O,  slain  in  Eden's  bower  nigh  the  bourn  where  lovers 

rest, 

I  fell  upon  the  arrow  that  was  buried  in  my  breast ; 
Farewell  the  noble  labor,  farewell  the  silent  pain, 
Farewell  the  perfect  honor  of  the  long  years  lived  in  vain ; 
I  lie  upon  the  moorland  where  the  wood   and  pasture 

meet, 
And  the  cords  that  no  man  breaketh  are  bound  about  my 

feet. 


n8  WILD   EDEN 


WAS  it  April  I  heard  sighing, 
Was  it  May  I  heard  replying, 
In  the  time  when  love  lay  dying, 
True  love,  so  slow  to  die  ? 

Was  it  April  I  saw  mingling 
With  the  sea-fog,  white  and  chill, 
Leave  the  ruddy  maples  tingling, 
And  the  green  mist  on  the  hill ; 
Come  fire-shod  through  the  furrow, 
And  fleeting  through  the  boughs, 
While  many  a  golden  morrow 
Streamed  backward  from  her  brows? 
Did  I  hear  her  breathing  nigh 
Where  the  wet,  bright  grasses  grow 
And  the  oriole  passes  by, 
In  moist  places,  warm  and  low, 
Till  I  dreamed  the  dream  before  me 
In  the  dreaming  of  the  year, 


THE   DREAM  119 

And  I  dreamed  her  breath  stole  o'er  me, 
Sighing  low,  "  Would  May  were  here !  " 

Swelled  the  bud  and  closed  the  furrow ; 
Shadier  night  and  ampler  day ; 
April,  sorrow  unto  sorrow, 
Gave  me  unto  mourning  May; 
Like  a  spirit,  bending  o'er  me, 
Woman  seemed  she,  eve  and  morn, 
Light  in  darkness,  May  that  bore  me 
Watched  the  child  that  she  had  borne ; 
Soothed  me  with  dim  hands  of  healing, 
Sleeping,  till  I  dreamed  again 
Balmier  daybreaks  rosier  stealing 
On  the  heaving  ocean-plain, 
Past  the  tide-ways  of  the  islands 
To  the  dreamy-cadenced  foam, 
And  the  large  out-looking  highlands, 
Pines  and  pastures  of  my  home ; 
There  beside  me,  parting  never, 
Over  earth  and  sea  and  skies 
Lights  of  beauty  blown  forever 
Flamed  and  faded  with  my  eyes ; 
Faint  the  music  o'er  my  bosom  — 


I20  WILD   EDEN 

"  Sleep  and  dream,  sleep  and  dream  ; 
Waken,  bud,  and  waken,  blossom  ; 
Feed  him,  lead  him,  flower  and  gleam  !  " 
And  at  last,  like  music  broken 
With  a  great  cry,  came  the  light, 
Loosed  in  tears  my  woe  unspoken, 
Lived,  and  brought  the  starless  night. 


THE   DEATH-ROSE  121 


MY  pulses  tremble  and  start, 

And  flame  in  my  throbbing  heart ; 

And  I  would  that  the  ocean-wind  might  arise 

And  blow  the  flying  scud  through  the  skies ; 

And  I  long  for  the  spirit  of  cold 

About  my  fever  to  flash  and  fold,  — 

And  far  away  I  see  uplift, 

Through  the  waver  of  thought  and  memory's  drift, 

Nevada  peaks,  where  the  heavenly  rose 

Sleeps  in  the  bosom  of  summer  snows  : 

Summer  snows  in  their  bosom  lie, 

And  out  of  the  heart  of  the  tender  sky, 

Where  all  day  long  the  lone  sun  rolled, 

Blooms  the  death-rose  in  a  mist  of  gold ; 

And  with  sudden  pallor  the  faint  flush  goes, 

And  leaves  the  peaks  to  their  white  repose. 


122  WILD   EDEN 


O  MOTHER,  Mighty  Mother,  them  who  bearest 
The  children  of  illusion  and  desire, 
Lovers  of  all  that  to  the  heart  is  fairest, 
Know'st  thou  not  me,  who  now  thine  aid  require, 
And  over  all  thy  brood  did  most  aspire 
To  love  and  to  be  loved?  whom  late  thou  gavest 
To  moulding  time  beside  the  sounding  deep, 
Bosomed  with  that  wild  passion  which  thou  cravest, 
And  peril  in  my  blood  to  dance  and  leap 
And  in  my  heart  perpetual  spring  to  keep ; 
But  O,  what  kindless  storm  and  winter  woe 
Have  laid  the  violets  of  the  year  asleep, 
And  bade  my  bursting  blossoms  never  blow  ! 
Am  I  not  thine,  O  Mother?  bend  low,  bend  low  ! 

O  Mighty  Mother,  who  with  dark  hands  dippest 
Thy  children  in  this  living  glory's  tide, 
And  in  their  infant  gaze  creation  clippest 
Blue-orbed  in  their  young  spirits  azure-eyed, 
And  openest  for  their  feet  far-off  the  wide 


THE   MIGHTY   MOTHER  123 

Light-gateways  !  thou  who  hast  the  mighty  magic 
And  layest  thy  sons  in  nature's  foster-breast, 
Where  from  the  wells  of  being  they  drain  the  tragic 
Nurture  of  spirits  greatening  o'er  the  rest, 
And  do  themselves  with  that  same  power  invest 
With  which  the  lone  sun  flames  and  blue  seas  roll,    - 
Which  stretches  out  the  day  from  east  to  west, 
And  sows  the  vivid  heavens  from  pole  to  pole,  — 
New  wielders  of  the  universal  soul ! 

O  Mother,  who  with  hands  of  splendor  blindest 

The  naked  vision  which  thy  sons  adore, 

And  o'er  them,  face  and  hair  and  forehead,  bindest 

The  mortal  veil  the  sacred  poets  wore, 

Bringing  it  forth  from  fame's  eternal  store ; 

And  windest  round  them  with  sweet-toned  measures 

Its  wandering  woof  of  winds  and  waters  wove, 

The  poets'  flowery  joys  and  starry  pleasures, 

The  marvel  of  the  dreaming  soul  of  love,  — 

And  heaven  and  earth  in  its  enchantment  move ; 

Then  see  they  spirits  walking  in  the  sky, 

And  mates  of  glory  go  the  way  they  rove ; 

Across  the  world  they  see  a  great  beam  lie ; 

Nor  deem  it  life  to  live,  nor  death  to  die. 


124  WILD   EDEN 

If  this  were  life,  thou  wouldst  not  hear  me  crying ; 
If  this  were  death,  my  mouth  were  stopt  with  dust 

0  Mighty  Mother,  far  beyond  replying, 

Gone  is  the  power  that  made  me  great  in  trust ; 

1  only  cry  aloud  because  I  must, 

For  whom  in  heaven  sang  every  star  my  brother, 
Sang  every  flower  on  earth  in  tune  with  me, 
And  light  and  sound,  each  sweeter  than  the  other, 
About  my  thoughts  washed  music  like  a  sea, 
Where  long  I  voyaged  with  my  minstrelsy ; 
They  friend  not  now ;  nor  see  I,  night  nor  day, 
The  landscape  glorified  with  cloud  or  tree ; 
But  waves  of  shadow  through  my  senses  play ; 
Along  dark  tides  my  spirit  swoons  away. 

O,  leave  me  not  to  drift  through  this  blue  being 
Borne  darkly  as  the  dark  wave  bears  the  foam, 
Sinking  away,  past  touch,  past  sound,  past  seeing, 
And  further  from  divinest  love  to  roam  ! 
Not  thus  thou  bringest  the  fair  life-lovers  home  ! 
But  rather  past  celestial  skies  that  brighten 
To  the  far  shining  of  the  heavenly  rose, 
Past  congregated  stars  that  blaze  and  lighten 
Unto  the  Sun  unseen  whence  all  light  flows, 


THE   MIGHTY   MOTHER  125 

The  soul  enamoured  to  its  mystery  goes  ! 
Me  darkness  compasses,  and  starless  woe ; 
Me  living  doth  night's  sepulchre  enclose ; 
O  yet,  even  now,  might  I  thy  presence  know, 
Though  all  were  lost,  thy  child  might  victor  go  ! 


126  WILD   EDEN 


autumn 

WHERE  summer  bees  were  droning 

Half  the  moony  night, 
Like  a  poet's  thoughts  intoning 

Bliss  of  as  brief  delight, 
Now  autumn  dirges  sift 

The  lindens  yellowing  old, 
Wailing  low  the  dying  shrift 

Of  love  long  told. 

Autumn  winds  go  moaning 

Through  the  boughs  like  amber  bright 
Grinds  the  gray  sea  groaning 

On  beaches  wild  and  white  ; 
The  lonely  lindens  lift 

Their  long-deserted  gold ; 
Soon  the  black  rain,  the  white  drift, 

And  the  leaf  in  the  mould. 


SO    SLOW   TO   DIE  127 


to  Die 


THE  rainbow  on  the  ocean 

A  moment  bright, 
The  nightingale's  devotion 

That  dies  on  night, 
Eve's  rosy  star  a-tremble 

Its  hour  of  light,  — 
All  things  that  love  resemble 

Too  soon  take  flight. 

The  violets  we  cherish 

Died  in  the  spring  ; 
Roses  and  lilies  perish 

In  what  they  bring  ; 
And  joy  and  beauty  wholly 

With  life  depart  ; 
But  love  leaves  slow,  how  slowly  ! 

Life's  empty  heart. 


128  WILD   EDEN 

O,  strange  to  me,  and  wondrous, 

The  storm  passed  by, 
With  sound  of  voices  thundrous 

Swept  from  the  sky ; 
But  stranger,  love,  thy  fashion,  — 

O,  tell  me  why 
Art  thou,  dark  storm  of  passion, 

So  slow  to  die? 

As  roll  the  billowy  ridges 

When  the  great  gale  has  blown  o'er 
As  the  long  winter- dirges 

From  frozen  branches  pour ; 
As  the  whole  sea's  harsh  December 

Pounds  on  the  pine-hung  shore ; 
So  will  love's  deep  remember, 

So  will  deep  love  deplore. 


THE   DIRGE  129 


soirge 


I  HAVE  been  where  the  white  lilies  blow 

That  no  heart  ponders  j 
I  have  been  where  the  rose-thickets  grow, 

And  love  never  wanders  ; 
Where  the  laurel-branch  unbroken 

Forgets  the  songful  strife  ; 
I  have  found  this  Death-in-life  ; 

'Tis  in  Wild  Eden  ! 

There  over  the  low  lilied  lawns, 

Down  rose-leaf  alleys, 
She  moves  under  silent  dawns 

Through  songless  valleys  ; 
Cold  rose  and  snow-cold  lilies 

Shall  for  the  maid  be  strewn, 
Nor  laurel  for  her  moan  ; 

Tis  in  Wild  Eden  ! 

I  have  sent  my  songs  up  to  her  — 
Sweetly  youth  left  me  ; 


i3o  WILD   EDEN 

I  have  given  my  manhood  to  woo  h«r, 

And  of  all  bereft  me  ; 
And  nightly  I  wake  from  the  garden 

That  lieth  remote,  apart, 
On  the  bourn  of  the  hopeless  heart ;  — 

Tis  in  Wild  Eden. 


THE   BLOOD-RED   BLOSSOM  131 


UBlostfom 


"  WHENCE  comest  thou,  Child,  when  April  wakes, 
So  phantom-fair  through  these  green  brakes  ? 
Why  wilt  thou  follow,  fond  and  fain, 
My  footsteps  to  the  wood  again? 

"  Why,  as  I  rest  by  this  gray  rock, 

Do  thy  wet  eyes  the  violets  mock? 

O,  tell  me  why,  in  thy  white  bosom, 

Thou  ever  wearest  the  blood-red  blossom?"  — 

"  Thou  comest  to  watch  the  violets  die, 
And  over  early  love  to  sigh  ; 
Thou  comest  to  watch  the  wild-rose  waken, 
And  drop  thy  tears  o'er  love  forsaken. 

"  And  wouldst  thou  know  why  these  three  years, 
When  April  wakes,  I  rise  in  tears  ? 
And  wouldst  thou  know  why  in  my  bosom 
I  wear  forever  the  blood-red  blossom  ? 


132  WILD   EDEN 

"  'Twas  here  I  grew,  warm  nature's  child, 
Too  young  to  be  by  love  beguiled; 
I  took  the  mantle  of  the  spring 
To  be  my  infant  covering. 

"  My  heart  was  full  of  tender  loves, 
Soft  as  a  dove-cote  full  of  doves  ; 
I  brought  the  violets  kisses  true, 
Warm  as  the  sun  and  fresh  as  dew ; 

"  Loved  to-day  and  wished  the  morrow, 
Went  blue-eyed  and  knew  no  sorrow, 
Dreaming  what  I  saw,  and  seeing 
What  I  dreamed,  a  gentle  being ; 

"  Seeing,  dreaming,  loving  all, 
What  should  such  a  child  befall, 
Save  the  sunshine,  save  the  breeze 
Blowing  to  the  shining  seas? 

"  O,  fair  I  flowered  in  opening  youth, 
Too  pure  to  doubt  that  love  is  truth ; 
I  took  the  fragrance  of  the  May 
To  be  the  sweetness  of  my  clay. 


THE   BLOOD-RED    BLOSSOM  133 

"  Came  the  spirit  of  Desire ; 
Came  the  finding  of  the  lyre  ; 
Came  the  night  without  repose ; 
Came  the  singing  of  the  rose. 

"  I  saw  it  open,  fresh  and  fair, 
And  spread  upon  the  country  air ; 
I  saw  the  shy  bud  swell  apart, 
And  at  the  last  give  all  its  heart. 

"  I  felt  a  tremor  seize  my  breast, 
And  hopes  unknown  and  unconfest ; 
I  only  knew  some  joy  to  be 
By  joy  that  then  was  dear  to  me. 

"  And  down  I  knelt,  and  kissed  it  oft, 
Kisses  many,  pure,  and  soft ; 
I  thought  —  I  was  so  childish  wise  — 
God  planted  it  in  Paradise. 

"  O,  blithe  beneath  the  branch  of  June 
My  heart  danced  with  the  stars  in  tune ; 
And,  throb  on  throb,  deep  nature's  flood 
Grew  warm  and  gladdened  in  my  blood. 


134  WILD   EDEN 

"  O,  love  began  as  Phosphor  bright 
Melts  on  the  rosy  breast  of  light ; 
O,  love  began  as  this  wild  wood 
Quires  with  its  red-throat  multitude  ! 

"  I  gave  my  body  to  sweet  Desire ; 
I  gave  my  soul  to  the  shrill  lyre ; 
And  all  night  long,  without  repose, 
I  sang  the  beauty  of  the  rose. 

"  And  I  forgot  the  violets  dead, 
And  many  a  lily's  golden  head  ; 
And  I  passed  by  all  gentle  flowers 
Wherewith  love  decks  his  mortal  bowers. 

"  My  blood  is  faint,  my  cheeks  are  pale, 
Since  I  began  the  deathless  tale ; 
And  thee  I  follow,  fond  and  fain, 
When  to  the  wood  thou  goest  again. 

"  By  this  gray  rock  I  stand,  a  child ; 
My  eyes  are  wet,  my  looks  are  wild ; 
I  see  a  deep  wound  in  thy  breast, 
And  tears  bedew  thy  secret  rest. 


THE   BLOOD-RED   BLOSSOM  135 

"  The  wood  shall  wilt,  the  grass  shall  wither, 
But  with  the  spring  will  I  come  hither ; 
And  when  from  all  things  here  I  fade, 
With  lovers  dead  shalt  thou  be  laid. 

"  And  now  thou  knowest  why  these  three  years, 
When  April  wakes,  I  rise  in  tears ; 
And  now  thou  knowest  why  in  my  bosom 
I  wear  forever  the  blood-red  blossom." 


136  WILD   EDEN 


I  WILL  go  down  in  my  youth  to  the  hoar  sea's  infinite 

foam ; 
I  will  bathe  in  the  winds  of  heaven ;  I  will  nest  where  the 

white  birds  home ; 
Where  the  sheeted  emerald  glitters  and  drifts  with  bursts 

of  snow, 
In  the  spume  of  stormy  mornings,  I  will  make  me  ready 

and  go ; 
Where  under  the  clear  west  weather  the  violet  surge  is 

rolled, 
I  will  strike  with  the  sun  in  heaven  the  day-long  league 

of  gold  ; 
Will  mix  with  the  waves,  and  mingle  with  the  bloom  of 

the  sunset  bar, 
And  toss  with  the  tangle  of  moonbeams,  and  call  to  the 

morning  star ; 
And  wave  and  wing  shall  know  me  a  sea-child  even  as 

they, 
Of  the  race  of  the  great  seafarers  a  thousand  years  if 

a  day. 


SEAWARD  137 

For  far  in  the  dawn  of  England,  by  the  gray  Devonian 

shore 
There  dwelt  a  cluster  of  fishers  who  drew  from  the  sea 

their  store ; 
And  aye  as  the  morning  mounted,  they  took  the  ocean's 

breath, 
They  shook  out  sail,  they  slipped  away,  they  gave  great 

odds  to  death ; 
In  little  scores  they  spoiled  the  seas,  wherever  helm  could 

steer, 
And  grafting  greatness  through  the  world  they  planted 

England  here ; 

Nor  rested  from  sea-labor  between  the  star-set  poles,  — 
Two  centuries  their  schooners  plunged  on  the   Gorges' 

shoals ; 
And  when   the   new  world's   morning   unveiled   earth's 

vaster  face, 
And  God  poured  hence  the  flood-tides   of  his   many- 

fountained  grace, 

From  Arctic  to  Antarctic,  by  either  far-flung  Cape, 
Wherever  points  the  compass,  the  great  sea-roads  they 

shape ; 
They  cleave   the   Indian  Ocean,  they  chart  the  China 

Seas, 


138  WILD   EDEN 

The  coral- tusked  Pacific  they  have  vanquished  at  their 
ease; 

They  haunt  the  Coast  of  Gold,  they  hang  on  the  Isles  of 
Spice, 

They  have  summered  the  Tropic  Trades,  they  have 
wintered  the  Polar  ice ; 

And  dropping  home  they  anchored  in  the  quiet  harbor- 
bars, 

Who  through  the  winds  of  all  the  world  had  flung  our 
shining  stars. 

Mine  is  this  blood-red  lineage,  'twixt  the  glories  of  birth 
and  death, 

That  gave  for  the  breath  of  my  nostrils  the  salt  sea- 
breath  ! 

Flesh  of  my  flesh,  bone  of  my  bone,  soul  of  my  soul, 

To  thee,  man-nourishing  Ocean,  I  come  —  make  me 
whole  ! 

I  am  weary  in  blood  and  nerve,  weary  in  brain  and  limb, 

Weary  in  sense  and  feeling,  and  the  lights  of  life  burn 
dim. 

Ah,  soon  will  the  hill  of  the  violets  be  mounded  deep 
with  snows ; 

A  mist  comes  out  of  the  lilies,  and  flame  from  the  breath 
of  the  rose ; 


SEAWARD  139 

And  all   this   marvellous   beauty   is   a   madness   in   my 

brain  j 

Forever  my  joyful  being  is  dying  —  dying  in  pain ; 
Of  the  flush  of  the  bough,  of  the  fragrance  of  woods, 

of  the  moan  of  the  dove 
Weary  —  and  weary  of  passion  —  and  thrice,  thrice  weary 

of  love  ! 

O,  the  bitter-sweet  illusion  of  the  seeming-happy  hours, 
The  pure  thoughts,  the  sweet  awe,  the  darkness-budding 

bowers  ! 
O,  beautiful  in  noble  hearts  love's  dawn-sweet  garden 

stands, 
But  the  breath  of  one  brief  whisper  shall  sow  the  place 

with  sands  ! 
O,  fair  in  love's  great  ages,  down  the  thousand  years  of 

rhyme 
Rings  the   tourney,   shines   the    laurel    of    the    courtly 

time  ! 
But  here  is  haunting  of  houses  where  they  chatter  of  yea 

and  nay, 

Chatter  of  title  and  fortune,  chatter  the  heart  away ; 
The  lairs  of  social  lies,  the  golden  barter  base,  — 
Not  to  decline  on  these  have  I  seen  love  face  to  face ! 


140  WILD   EDEN 

I  will  rise,  I  will  go  from  the  places  that  are  dark  with 

passion  and  pain, 
From   the    sorrow-changed  woodlands  and  a  thousand 

memories  slain. 

0  light  gone  out  in  darkness  on  the  cliff  I  seek  no  more 
Where  she  I  worshipped  met  me  in  her  girlhood  at  the 

door  ! 

O,  bright  though  years  how  many  !  farewell,  sweet  guid 
ing  star  — 

The  wild  wind  blows  me  seaward  over  the  harbor-bar  ! 

Better  thy  waste,  gray  Ocean,  the  homeless,  heaving  plain, 

Than  to  choke  the  fount  of  life  and  the  flower  of  honor 
stain  ! 

1  will  seek  thy  blessed  shelter,  deep  bosom  of  sun  and 

storm, 
From  the  fever  and  fret  of  the  earth  and  the  things  that 

debase  and  deform ; 
For  I  am  thine ;  from  of  old  thou  didst  lay  me,  a  child, 

at  rest 
In  thy  cradle  of  many  waters,  and  gav'st  to  my  hunger 

thy  breast; 
Remember  the  dreamful  boy  whom  thy  beauty  preserved 

from  wrong,  — 
Thou  taughtest  me  music,  O  Singer  of  the  never-silent  song  ! 


SEAWARD  141 

Man-grown,  I  will  seek  thy  healing ;  though  from  worse 

than  death  I  fly, 
Not  mine  the  heart  of  the  craven,  not  here  I  mean  to 

die! 
Let  me  taste  on  my  lips  thy  salt,  let  me  live  with  the  sun 

and  the  rain, 

Let  me  lean  to  the  rolling  wave  and  feel  me  man  again  ! 
O,  make  thee  a  sheaf  of  arrows  as  when  thy  winters  rage 

forth,  — 
Whiten  me  as  thy  deep-sea  waves  with  the  blanching 

breath  of  the  North  ! 

O,  take  thee  a  bundle  of  spears  from  thine  azure  of  burn 
ing  drouth, 
Smite  into  my  pulses  the  tremors,  the  fervors,  the  blaze 

of  the  South ! 
So  might  my  breath  be  snow-cold,  and  my  blood  be  pure 

like  fire, 
The  heavenly  souls  that  have  left  me  will  come  back  to 

sustain  and  inspire. 
Take  me  —  I  come  —  O,  save  me  in  the  paths  my  fathers 

trod!  — 
Then  fling  me  back  to  the  battle  where  men  labor  the 

peace  of  God ! 


THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY   AND 
OTHER   POEMS 


players'   <fi;legi?  on  tije  S>eart)  of 
liBootl) 


READ     AT    THE     MEMORIAL     SERVICE     IN    THE     MADISON 
SQUARE    CONCERT    HALL,    NOVEMBER    13,    1893 

LINGER  ye  here,  all  lovers  of  the  soul, 
Nor,  careful  of  our  grief,  too  far  remove 
From  the  last  rites  of  love  ! 
Bend  hither  your  sad  hearts,  no  more  to  flow 
With  deaths  of  ill-starred  kings  and  tears  of  time, 
Plucked  from  your  bosoms  by  a  feigned  woe, 
But  from  the  living  fountain  learn  to  shed 
Some  drops  of  sorrow  for  the  player  dead, 
While  round  his  earth  dirges  of  slumber  go  ! 
Who  mourn  him,  if  not  ye  he  taught  to  weep  ? 
Yours  are  the  hearts  he  sought,  the  hearts  he  won. 
This  solemn  hour  with  sad  observance  keep, 
O  living  throng,  felt  round  his  mortal  sleep 
With  man's  long  tribute  unto  greatness  gone  ! 

Ah,  not  as  o'er  the  violet  in  his  prime, 
For  him  sweet  pastoral  notes  and  mused  rhyme 
L  145 


146  THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY 

The  shroud  of  beauty  weave,  and  leave  him  so ; 
But  honor's  breath  and  virtue's  pure  acclaim, 
Meeds  of  long  life,  guerdons  of  happy  fame, 
To  future  ages  shall  his  blazon  show. 
In  lowly  dust  abides  his  buried  head, 
But  in  the  thoughts  of  men  he  aye  shall  climb, 
Who  greatly  gave  his  life  to  noble  ends, 
And  in  himself  his  country's  honor  stored, 
And,  past  our  borders,  was  our  fame  abroad. 
Not  unlamented  he  to  night  descends 
Who  with  the  people's  life  his  genius  blends ; 
Innumerous  sorrow  and  unseen  farewell, 
And  what  the  heart  but  to  itself  doth  tell, 
Shall  be  his  passing-bell. 

The  wide  stage  darkens  with  such  rare  eclipse 
As  brings  the  hush  upon  all  breathing  lips ; 
Yet  is  this  silence  one  that  doth  belong 
To  music,  and  this  shadow  unto  song ; 
Nor  shall  the  Muse's  ample  store  afford 
Less  than  her  flourished  laurel  for  his  shroud, 
Who  followed,  for  his  master  and  his  lord, 
Her  son,  on  whom  applauding  ages  crowd  — 
Him  who,  erewhile  —  him,  too  —  with  sorrow  loud 
And  Thames's  song,  was  to  his  silence  borne 


THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY  147 

In  Stratford ;  yet  again  she  bids  men  mourn 
Her  tragic  grave,  and  by  the  Atlantic  sea 
Hath  set  her  stone  of  perfect  memory. 
Nor  thou  the  last  —  great  Mother  of  our  verse 
And  Avon's  source,  that  loudest  thy  fame  doth  sound, 
Who  laid  thy  emblems  on  his  sable  hearse  — 
Honor  the  fellow  of  thy  master-mind, 
Who,  far  as  round  the  illumined  world  doth  reach 
The  large  dominion  of  thy  conquering  speech, 
Bore  England's  greatest  message  to  mankind  ! 
To  him  once  more  let  all  men's  voices  roll, 
Though  the  loud  plaudit  fallen  to  low  lament : 
The  breath  of  praise  to  him  be,  mourning,  sent 
From  city  and  continent 

And  every  soil  his  voice  made  Shakspere's  ground  ! 
Yet  greatest  love  for  him  shall  here  be  found. 
For  first  of  men  born  ours  he  did  advance 
In  the  world's  front  our  title  to  the  crown, 
And  with  old  glory  blend  our  young  renown, 
In  tragedy  a  victor ;  and  his  glance 
Knew  none  but  equals  on  that  ancient  ground, 
While  rolled  his  triumph  to  the  Danube's  bound. 
What  could  he  less,  inheriting  his  race, 
Ancestral  honor,  and  the  happy  breed 


148  THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY 

That  from  old  Burbage  heired  the  players'  art, 

And  in  young  Garrick  treasured  up  the  seed, 

In  Kemble  majesty,  in  Kean  made  grace. 

The  masters  come  not  oft, 

Who  lighten  in  the  soul,  and  ride  aloft 

On  old  Imagination's  winged  sphere ; 

But  he  was  native  there, 

And  could  that  orb  of  pale  dominion  steer, 

Who  bore  the  soul  of  Shakspere  in  his  heart 

And  bodied  forth  his  world.     O  potent  art, 

Clothing  with  mortal  mould  the  poet's  thought, 

That  so  could  recreate 

The  beauty  of  dead  princes  and  their  state, 

And  all  that  glory  to  perdition  brought, 

Sorrows  of  song  !     O  noble  breast  o'erfraught, 

That  such  a  weight  of  perilous  stuff  could  carry, 

And  to  the  old  words  marry 

The  music  of  his  tongue,  his  princely  mien, 

And  beauty  like  the  Muses'  Mercury, 

That  like  an  antique  god  he  trod  the  scene, 

And  every  motion  carved  him  where  he  stood 

Fit  for  eternity  ! 

Nor  came  he  to  this  height  by  happy  chance ; 
Nor  birth  nor  fortune  to  that  presence  thrust ; 


THE   PLAYERS'    ELEGY  149 

But  wisest  labor  and  strict  governance. 

Lower  than  in  himself  he  dared  not  trust, 

But  his  dear  study  of  perfection  made, 

Increasing  nature's  gifts  with  learning's  aid. 

The  scholar's  page  oft  lit  his  lonely  hour, 

Yet  spared  all  knowledge  alien  to  his  power ; 

The  true  tradition,  wandered  from  its  source, 

Taught  by  his  memory,  found  its  ancient  course : 

Informed  with  mind,  now  Shylock  shook  the  stage, 

And  subtly  tempered  burst  Lear's  awful  rage. 

And  more  he  brought  than  yet  had  ever  been 

To  plant  illusion  in  the  painted  scene, 

And  bade  the  arts  a  royal  tribute  pour 

To  make  the  pageant  wealthier  than  before ; 

As  in  a  living  Rome  ran  Caesar's  blood, 

And  round  the  lovers  fair  Verona  stood ; 

Yet  well  he  knew  the  action  to  maintain 

Against  the  scene,  that  else  were  laid  in  vain ; 

Happy  who  first  had  learned,  though  hid  from  youth, 

What  Prosper  taught  him  from  the  buried  book 

Whereon  the  brooding  eyes  of  genius  look  — 

The  way  unto  the  heart  is  simple  truth. 

Thus  did  he  mount  the  dais  of  the  throne, 

Thus  did  he  leap  into  the  royal  siege, 


ISO  THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY 

And  filled  the  stage,  and  in  himself  summed  all. 

Hark  in  our  ears  the  poor  Fool's  lip-crushed  moan  ! 

Weep,  Bolingbroke  !  he  weeps,  thy  crownless  liege  ! 

Mount,  Richard,  mount !  thy  bloody  murders  call ! 

Alas,  our  eyes  have  seen, 

As  if  no  other  woe  than  this  had  been, 

The  heart-break  of  the  Moor,  and,  dark  behind, 

Traced  frank  lago's  intellectual  stealth 

And  panther  footfall  in  the  generous  mind. 

How  oft  with  hearts  elate 

We  watched  the  Cardinal  play  the  match  with  fate, 

While,  trembling,  shook  the  state 

More  than  his  age  —  whose  mind,  a  kingdom's  wealth, 

Made  everything  but  innocence  his  tool, 

Daunted  the  throne  and  headlong  threw  the  fool ! 

With  Cassius  did  we  plot,  with  Brutus  walk. 

O,  why  remember,  now  that  all  is  fled, 

How  deep  as  life  the  fond  illusion  spread 

Round  him,  who  now  is  dead, 

Till  we  with  Hamlet  seemed  to  live  and  talk ! 

O  tender  soul  of  human  melancholy 
That  o'er  him  brooded  like  the  firmament ! 
Thence  had  his  eyes  their  supernatural  fires 
And  his  deep  soul  its  element  of  night ; 


Or 


f  C         '  V 

i*' «  r  v    i 


THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY  151 

Thence  had  he  felt  the  touch  of  great  thoughts  wholly 

That  with  mortality  but  ill  consent, 

The  star-crost  spirit's  unconfined  desires, 

That  in  this  brief  breath  plumes  its  fiery  flight ; 

And  on  his  brows  hung  ever  the  pale  might 

Of  intellectual  passion,  inward  bent, 

Musing  the  bounds  of  Nature's  continent ; 

There  love,  that  flies  abreast  with  thoughts  of  youth, 

And  glides,  a  splendor,  by  the  wings  of  truth, 

Over  the  luminous  vague  to  darkness  went ; 

Like  some  slow-dying  star  down  heaven's  pole, 

It  moves  o'er  earth's  blind  frame  and  man's  dark  soul, 

And  passes  out  of  sight, 

And  the  lone  soul  once  more  confines  its  light. 

So  worked  the  poet's  passion  in  his  heart, 

And,  from  within,  his  blood  dark  influence  lent, 

While  with  the  body,  there,  the  spirit  blent, 

And  stamped  the  player  of  creative  art  — 

The  soul  incarnate  in  its  mortal  bloom, 

The  infinite,  shut  in  how  little  room  — 

The  word,  the  act  —  no  more ;  yet  thereof  made 

The  player  who  the  heart  of  Hamlet  played  ! 

Ah,  who  shall  e'er  forget  the  sweet,  grave  face, 

The  beauty  flowering  from  a  stately  race, 


152  THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY 

The  mind  of  majesty,  the  heart  of  grace? 
How  like  himself  did  all  things  there  appear, 
And  hued  like  him  !  over  whose  own  dear  head 
Stood  the  dark  planet,  and  its  burden  shed  — 
A  world  disordered,  a  distempered  sphere, 
Crooked  events,  and  roughness  everywhere,  — 
The  jar  of  Nature's  frame  since,  earthward  wheeled. 
First  with  nativity  the  stars  grew  sad, 
And  prescience  of  what  should  be  sorrow,  had. 
These  were  his  world  —  who  had  a  world  within 
Of  augury  that  bankrupts  Nature's  bond, 
A  power,  past  her  will,  not  from  her  source, 
Felt  in  the  mind  that  lightens  round  its  throne, 
Majestic  flames,  inheriting  her  gloom, 
Pale  splendors,  yet  with  power  to  illume 
Time's  buried  tract  and  reaches  of  the  tomb ; 
There  reigns  the  spirit,  there  is  truly  known, 
In  whose  unclouded  world  doth  Nature  roll, 
Herself  an  image  ;  there,  by  shadows  shown, 
He  held  the  mirror  up  within  the  soul, 
And  from  his  bosom  read  the  part  alone, 
The  infinite  of  man  within  him  sealed, 
And  played  himself — O,  with  what  truth  exprest ! 
He  plucked  the  mystery  from  the  master's  breast, 


THE    PLAYERS'    ELEGY  153 

But  ah,  what  mortal  plucks  it  from  his  own? 

Such  was  our  Hamlet,  whom  the  people  knew, 
A  soul  of  noble  breath,  sweet,  kind,  and  true ; 
Our  flesh  and  blood,  yet  of  the  world  ideal, 
So  native  to  immortal  memory 
That  to  the  world  he  hardly  seems  to  die 
More  than  the  poet's  page,  where  buried  lie 
The  form  and  feature  of  eternity ; 
But  when  we  look  within,  what  spirits  there 
Move  in  the  silence  of  that  hallowed  air  ! 
He  in  the  mind  shall  his  black  mantle  wear, 
Pore  on  the  book,  and  greet  the  players  dear, 
And  make  dead  Yorick  with  his  memory  fair. 
But  ah,  for  us  —  alas  !  who  knew  him  near, 
Nearer  the  loss  ;  ah,  what  shall  yet  appear 
Of  all  he  was? —  For  us  the  vacant  chair, 
For  us  the  vanished  presence  from  the  room, 
The  silent  bust,  the  portrait  hung  with  gloom ; 
He  will  not  come,  not  come  ! 
Yet  doth  his  figure  linger  on  the  sense, 
And  memory  her  sacred  relics  save 
Of  voice,  and  hand,  and  silent  influence, 
That  some  shall  carry  with  them  to  the  grave. 
No  more  beside  the  lighted  hearth  he  stands, 


154  THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY 

Bringing  us  welcome  from  o'erflowing  hands  — 
Our  host,  our  benefactor,  and  our  friend, 
Faultless  in  all,  who  all  in  one  could  blend  : 
Gracious,  with  something  of  old  reverence; 
Generous,  who  never  knew  the  gift  he  gave ; 
Thoughtful,  who  for  the  least  himself  would  waive  ! 
How  oft  we  saw  him  in  the  evening  light, 
The  patient  sufferer  in  our  daily  sight ! 
Here  was  his  home ;  here  were  his  gathered  friends ; 
Blest  is  the  life  that  in  such  friendship  ends  ! 
Nor  further  looks  the  verse,  though  taught  to  see 
More  nigh  that  heart  of  noble  privacy, 
Bosom  of  perfect  trust,  from  guile  how  free, 
An  open  soul,  with  reticence  refined ; 
Yet  when  he  spoke  a  child  might  read  his  mind : 
So  great  a  soul  had  such  simplicity. 

Cease,  flood  of  song,  thy  stream  !  now  cease,  and  know 
Thy  silver  fountains  from  all  hearts  do  flow ! 
Cease  now,  my  song,  and  learn  to  say  good-night 
To  him  whose  glory  lends  thy  stream  its  light  ! 
The  last  great  heir  of  the  majestic  stage 
Has  passed,  and  with  him  passes  a  great  age ; 
Low  with  the  elders  lies  his  honored  head, 
And  in  one  voice  are  many  voices  dead. 


THE   PLAYERS'   ELEGY  155 

O  old  tradition,  crusted  with  great  names, 
Our  captain-jewels  !  lo,  among  them  set, 
Booth's,  like  a  star  !  look  you,  how  sweet  it  flames, 
And  with  the  lustre  of  our  tears  still  wet ! 
Farewell  —  farewell!  move,  sweet  soul,  to  thy  rest : 
Sleep  cloud  thy  eyes,  deep  sleep  be  in  thy  breast ! 
Go,  noble  heart,  unto  our  sons  a  name, 
Through  all  men's  praises  to  eternal  fame  ! 
Move,  happy  spirit,  where  all  voices  cease  — 
Through  our  love  go,  to  where  love's  name  is  peace  ! 


156  ODE 


READ   AT  THE   EMERSON   CENTENARY   SERVICES,    BOSTON, 
MAY    24,    1903 


NOT  on  slight  errands  come  the  Immortals ; 

Loud  the  alarum  ;  they  burst  the  portals, 

Bringing  new  ages, 

Saints,  poets,  sages ; 

They  rend,  they  trample  ; 

Their  power  is  ample 

To  do  great  deeds  and  tasks  unshared, 

That  only  the  single  soul  has  ever  dared. 

In  them,  and  what  they  can, 

Is  the  greatness  of  man. 

II 

O  City,  set  amid  the  bloom  and  brine 
Of  bowery  summer  by  her  Northern  seas, 
Sweet  is  thy  azure  morn,  thy  blowing  breeze  ; 
But  deeplier  our  lives  with  thee  entwine ; 


ODE  157 

And  as  young  children  at  their  mother's  knees 

Gaze  on  her  face,  such  loveliness  is  thine, 

For  half  their  eyes  behold,  and  half  their  hearts  divine, 

And  their  dropt  lids  adore  the  unseen  throne ; 

So  has  our  boyhood  known, 

The  heavenly  glory  felt  in  greatness  gone 

That  in  its  native  fields  long  lingers  on  : 

Blest  feet  that  walked  thy  ancient  ways, 

And  edged  with  light  thy  morning  days ; 

Forms  that  along  thy  ice-bound  shore 

The  sword  and  lamp  in  each  hand  bore ; 

Who  built  one  age,  and  hewed  the  next, 

While  Freedom  hoards  each  gospel  text ; 

Through  lowly  lives  the  frugal  centuries  roll, 

And  each  rude  cradle  holds  a  child  of  God ; 

Long  generations  nurse  the  new-born  soul, 

And  show  the  shining  track  the  Saviour  trod ; 

And  fairly  from  that  first  and  famous  race 

Who  smote  the  rock  whence  poured  this  stream  of  years, 

Came  forth  the  bloom  of  prayer  and  flower  of  grace 

Whose  incense  sweeter  in  the  sons  appears. 

O  Mother-state,  white  with  departing  May, 
A  hundred  Mays  depart;  this  beauty  aye 


158  ODE 

Streams  from  thy  breasts,  a  thousand  children  owning 
Whose  lives  are  made  the  scriptures  of  thy  youth, 
And  him  the  first,  whose  early  voice  intoning 
With  pointing  finger  read  God's  primal  truth. 
From  sire  to  son  was  stored  the  sacred  seed ; 
Age  piled  on  age  to  meet  a  nation's  need ; 
Till  the  high  natal  hour, 
Rounding  to  perfect  power, 
Upon  the  verge  of  confluent  ages  borne, 
Found  genius'  height  sublime, 
And  set  a  star  upon  the  front  of  time, 
That   spreads.,    as    far   as   sunset    flames,    thy   spiritual 
morn. 


Ill 

O  boon,  all  other  gifts  above 

That  loads  our  veins  with  power,  with  love, 

Joyful  is  birth  wherever  mothers  are, 

Since  over  Bethlehem  stood  the  children's  star ! 

Ever  by  that  transcendent  sign 

The  budding  boy  is  born  divine ; 

Infinity  into  his  being  flows 

As  if  all  nature  flowered  in  one  rose ; 


ODE  159 

A  million  blooms  suffuse  the  fragrant  hills, 
A  manhood  race,  a  manhood  race,  our  emerald  valleys 
fills! 

I  see  great  cities  stand, 
Mothers  of  equal  men, 
Each  leading  by  the  hand 
A  multitude  immense,  sweet  to  command, 
Her  clinging  broods  j  the  tool,  the  book,  the  pen, 
Letters  and  arts  whereby  a  man  may  live, 
To  each  child  she  doth  give, 
And  with  fraternity  she  makes  all  fast, 
Honoring  the  spark  of  God  ;  she  cherisheth 
Its  mighty  flame  to  be  her  blood  and  breath, 
And  her  immortal  pinion  over  death ; 
For  as  these  little  ones  shall  fare,  she  knows,  her  fates  are 
cast. 

A  manhood  race  !  we  are  not  children  now, 
Fronting  the  fates  with  knit  imperial  brow, 
Lords  over  Nature  ;  fast  her  mystic  reign 
Fades  in  the  finer  mystery  of  the  brain, 
That  now  with  intellect  and  will  informs 
Her  clashing  atoms  and  her  wandering  storms ; 


160  ODE 

Deep  in  the  sphere  the  mighty  magic  plies ; 

Darkness  has  fled  from  matter ;  from  the  skies 

Space  has  departed  ;  the  invisible 

Pestilence  shivers  in  life's  ultimate  cell ; 

While  continents  divide  like  Egypt's  sea, 

And  dim  Pacific  floors  wonder  what  thought  may  be. 

And  better  in  the  human  strife 

We  serve  the  soul,  the  lords  of  life, 

Blending  the  many-nationed  race 

Where  God  along  all  bloods  has  poured  the  torrent  of 

His  grace. 

Bright  in  our  midst  His  Mercy-seat 
Throngs  with  innumerable  feet ; 
Nor  hath  He  made  their  multitude  complete ; 
But  where  the  human  storm  terrific  rears 
Above  the  flying  land, 
One  word  the  throne  of  heaven  hears 
That  all  tongues  understand  : 
America,  they  whisper  low- 
As  down  through  fire  and  blood  they  go, 
Through  awful  crime  and  desperate  woe, 
To  the  pale  ocean  strand  ; 
Nor  once,  nor  twice,  this  rising  coast  appears 
Beneath  its  heaven-streaming  torch  illumed, 


ODE  161 

Man's  ark  of  safety  on  the  flood  of  years  ; 

There  have  we  clothed  them  naked,  and  there  fed 

On  Freedom's  loaf,  whose  blessed  bread, 

Forever  multiplied  and  unconsumed, 

As  if  the  Master's  voice  still  in  it  spoke 

Our  hands  have  to  uncounted  millions  broke ; 

There  have  we  wiped  away  the  whole  world's  tears. 

Wide  as  the  gates  of  life,  let  stand  our  gates, 

Nor  them  deny  whom  God  denied  not  birth ; 

Nor,  though  we  house  all  outcasts  of  the  earth, 

Christ  being  within  our  city,  fear  the  fates  ! 

O  birthright  found  the  sweetest 

That  in  our  blood  began  ! 

O  manhood-faith  found  fleetest 

Of  all  the  faiths  of  man  ! 

We  own  the  one  great  Mother 

Who  first  the  man-child  bore, 

And  every  man  a  brother 

Who  wears  the  form  Christ  wore. 

Such  mighty  voices  murmured  round  our  youth, 

Souls  dedicated  to  immortal  toil, 

While,  battle-bound,  the  fiery  wings  of  truth 

Sublime  swept  past  us  o'er  the  perilled  soil ; 

M 


162  ODE 

For  we  were  born  the  children  of  the  great, 
Seers  of  the  soul  and  savers  of  the  state ; 
We  saw  and  heard  and  touched  them,  hand  and  cheek, 
Whose  voices  now  like  dying  cannon  speak ; 
So  loud  a  morn  was  to  our  childhood  given, 
And  mixed  with  flashes  out  of  heaven 
Pealing  words  our  spirits  shook, 
And  awful  shapes  with  superhuman  look,  — 
Our  cradle-truths  ;  so  native  to  our  lips, 
That  like  our  mother  tongue  their  thunder  slips ; 
We  have  no  memory  when  it  was  not  so. 
Wherefore  we  fear  not,  coming  to  our  own ; 
The  eyrie's  brood 
Find  eagle's  food ; 
The  blue  dominion 
Tires  not  their  pinion ; 

Men  are  we,  greatness  that  our  sons  shall  know 
Who  us  inherit ;  now  we  wield  alone 
The  glory  ;  for  the  mighty  ones  lie  low  ; 
They  are  dead,  brain  and  hand ;  they  are  dust,  blood 
and  bone. 


ODE  163 


IV 


I  lay  the  singing  laurels  down 

Upon  the  silent  grave ; 

Tis  vain ;  the  master  slumbers  on 

Nor  knows  the  gift  he  gave. 

I  take  again  the  murmuring  crown 

Unto  the  here  and  now ; 

And  every  leaf  sings  Emerson, 

Whose  music  binds  my  brow. 

For  in  this  changeful  mortal  scene, 

Where  all  "things  mourn  what  once  has  been, 

Only  the  touch  of  soul  with  soul 

At  last  escapes  from  death's  control : 

And  from  himself  I  learnt  it,  —  the  true  singer 

Must  of  his  own  heavens  be  the  bright  star-bringer, 

And  sphere  of  dawning  lights  his  morning  song ; 

So  shall  his  music  to  God's  time  belong, 

Not  to  an  age ;  thus  did  his  earth  absorb 

The  eternal  ray,  and  new  enorb 

The  star  of  time  ;  he  heard  the  wind-harp's  strings, 

The  cosmic  pulse,  the  chemic  dance, 


1 64  ODE 

And  saw  through  spirit-mating  things 

Man's  secular  advance ; 

One  song  the  sons  of  morning  sang ; 

One  blushed  from  Nature's  lyre ; 

One  the  Judsean  carols  rang ; 

One  flamed  the  heart's  desire ; 

Thence  he  snatched  with  burning  palms, 

Hymns  and  proud  millennial  psalms  ; 

And,  high  o'er  all,  one  strain  no  heaven  could  daunt, 

With  notes  sublimely  dominant, 

Sang  victory,  victory,  victory  unto  man 

In  whose  fair  soul  victorious  good  began ; 

The  vision  beautiful, 

The  labor  dutiful, 

Truth,  the  finder, 

Love,  the  binder ; 

And  close  about  our  mortal  tasks  their  sacred  faces  came, 

Sweet  faces  pale  beside  our  paler  flame. 

He  fed  our  souls  with  holy  dew, 

Yet  taught  us  by  the  line  to  hew, 

And  mix  of  heaven  and  earth  a  new  ideal, 

Till  harmonies  of  soul  and  sense 

Shall  everywhere  rhyme  innocence  ; 

And  in  himself  forecast  the  man  he  drew; 


ODE  165 

Him  whom  farthest  years  reveal 

In  millions  multiplied, 

Swarming  green  savannahs  o'er, 

Purple  height  and  emerald  floor, 

The  snow-clad  and  the  golden  shore, 

And  where  the  coral  combers  roar, 

In  beauty  dwelling  side  by  side ; 

A  type  to  show  what  constitutes  a  man 

Amid  his  daily  tasks ; 

Even  such  a  type  as  the  pure  gospel  asks, 

The  bravest  lover  of  his  kind,  the  man  American. 


And  Thou,  O  Fountain,  whence  we  issued  forth, 
Source  of  all  kindly  grace  and  noble  worth, 
Who  in  our  fathers  poured  so  wide  a  flood, 
Leave  not  our  temples,  fail  not  from  our  blood ; 
Even  this  that  doth  along  my  pulses  fleet, 
With  all  the  American  years  made  sweet, 
The  sweetest  blood  that  flows  ! 
On  Thee  our  lives  repose. 
Make  us  to  dwell  secure  where  tempests  are, 
And  find  in  peace  the  mightiest  arm  of  war ; 


166  ODE 

And  if,  past  justice'  bound,  our  foes  increase, 
Make  war  the  harbinger  of  larger  peace  ; 
So  in  our  Capitol  shall  law  be  found 
With  palm  and  olive,  equal  trophies,  crowned. 
Last  for  the  soul  make  we  our  great  appeal : 
There  foster  and  confirm  the  life  ideal ; 
Grant  us  self-conquest  and  self-sacrifice, 
Since  only  upon  these  may  mankind  rise. 


WENDELL   PHILLIPS  167 


OBIIT    1902 

TRUE  to  the  Muses  and  to  mankind  true, 
Bard  of  thy  race,  amid  the  foolish  sage, 

Take  now  thy  crown  among  our  sacred  few, 
Who  wast  Christ's  laureate  in  a  faithless  age. 


I  SAW  him  stand,  upon  the  Judgment  Day, 
Who  in  his  life  all  human  wrath  had  braved, 

The  appealing  angel  in  his  voice,  and  say : 
"  If  but  one  soul  be  lost,  how  is  man  saved?" 


168  ESSEX   REGIMENT   MARCH 


Hegiment 


WRITTEN   FOR  THE   EIGHTH   MASSACHUSETTS   UNITED    STATES 
VOLUNTEER    INFANTRY   IN   THE   SPANISH   WAR 

ONCE  more  the  Flower  of  Essex  is  marching  to  the  wars  ; 

We  are  up  to  serve  the  Country  wherever  fly  her  Stars  ; 

Ashore,  afloat,  or  far  or  near,  to  her  who  bore  us  true, 

We  will  do  a  freeman's  duty  as  we  were  born  to  do. 
Lead  the  van,  and  may  we  lead  it, 
God  of  armies,  till  the  wrong  shall  cease  ; 
Speed  the  war,  and  may  we  speed  it 
To  the  sweet  home-coming,  God  of  peace  ! 

Our  fathers  fought  their  battles,  and  conquered  for  the 

right, 

Three  hundred  years  victorious  from  every  stubborn  fight  ; 
And  still  the  Flower  of  Essex  from  the  ancient  stock  puts 

forth, 
Where  the  bracing  blue  sea-weather  strings  the  sinews  of 

the  North. 


ESSEX   REGIMENT   MARCH  169 

The  foe  on  field,  the  foe  on  deck  to  us  is  all  the  same ; 
With  both  the  Flower  of    Essex  has  played  a  winning 

game; 
We  threw  them  on  the  village  green,  we  cowed  them  in 

Algiers, 
And  ship  to  ship  we  shocked  them  in  our  first  great  naval 

years. 


We  rowed  the  Great  Commander  o'er  the  ice-bound 
Delaware, 

When  the  Christmas  snow  was  falling  in  the  dark  and 
wintry  air ; 

And  still  the  Flower  of  Essex,  like  the  heroes  gone  be 
fore, 

Where  the  tide  of  danger  surges  shall  take  the  laboring 
oar. 


The  Flower  that  first  lay  bleeding  along  by  Bloody  Brook 
Full  oft  hath  Death  upgathered  in  war's  red  reaping-hook ; 
Its  home  is  on  our  headlands  ;  'tis  sweeter  than  the  rose ; 
But  sweetest  in  the  battle's  breath  the  Flower  of  Essex 
blows. 


1 7o  ESSEX   REGIMENT   MARCH 

At  the  best  a  dear  home-coming,  at  the  worst  a  soldier's 

grave, 

Beating  the  tropic  jungle,  ploughing  the  dark  blue  wave ; 
But  while  the  Flower  of  Essex  from  the  granite  rock  shall 

come, 
None  but  the  dead  shall  cease  to  fight  till  all  go  marching 

home. 

March  onward  to  the  leaguer  wherever  it  may  lie ; 

The  Colors  make  the  Country  whatever  be  the  sky ; 

Where  round  the  Flag  of  Glory  the  storm  terrific  blows, 

We  march,  we  sail,  whoever  fail,  the  Flower  of  Essex 
goes. 

Lead  the  van,  and  may  we  lead  it, 

God  of  armies,  till  the  wrong  shall  cease ; 

Speed  the  war,  and  may  we  speed  it 

To  the  sweet  home-coming,  God  of  peace  ! 


THE   ISLANDS   OF   THE   SEA  171 


of  ttje 


GOD  is  shaping  the  great  future  of  the  Islands  of  the  Sea  ; 
He  has  sown  the  blood  of  martyrs  and  the  fruit  is  liberty  ; 
In  thick  clouds  and  in  darkness  He  has  sent  abroad  His 

word  ; 
He  has  given  a  haughty  nation  to  the  cannon  and  the 

sword. 

He  has  seen  a  people  moaning  in  the  thousand  deaths 

they  die  ; 

He  has  heard  from  child  and  woman  a  terrible  dark  cry  ; 
He  has  given  the  wasted  talent  of  the  steward  faithless 

found 
To   the   youngest  of  the  nations  with   His   abundance 

crowned. 

He  called  her  to  do  justice  where  none  but  she  had 

power  ; 

He  called  her  to  do  mercy  to  her  neighbor  at  the  door  ; 
He  called  her  to  do  vengeance  for  her  own  sons  foully 

dead; 
Thrice  did  He  call  unto  her  ere  she  inclined  her  head. 


i72  THE   ISLANDS   OF   THE   SEA 

She  has  gathered  the  vast  Midland,  she  has  searched  her 

borders  round ; 
There  has  been  a  mighty  hosting  of  her  children  on  the 

ground  ; 
Her  search-lights  lie  along  the  sea,  her  guns  are  loud  on 

land; 
To  do  her  will  upon  the  earth  her  armies  round  her 

stand. 

The  fleet,  at  her  commandment,  to  either  ocean  turns ; 
Belted   around    the    mighty   world    her    line    of   battle 

burns ; 
She  has  loosed  the  hot  volcanoes  of  the  ships  of  flaming 

hell; 
With  fire  and  smoke  and  earthquake  shock  her  heavy 

vengeance  fell. 

O  joyfulest  May  morning  when  before  our  guns  went 

down 
The   Inquisition    priesthood    and   the   dungeon- making 

crown, 
While  through  red  lights  of  battle  our  starry  dawn  burst 

out, 
Swift  as  the  tropic  sunrise  that  doth  with  glory  shout ! 


THE   ISLANDS   OF   THE   SEA  173 

Be  jubilant,  free  Cuba,  our  feet  are  on  thy  soil ; 

Up  mountain  road,  through  jungle  growth,  our  bravest  for 

thee  toil ; 
There  is  no  blood  so  precious  as  their  wounds  pour  forth 

for  thee ; 
Sweet  be  thy  joys,  free  Cuba,  —  sorrows  have  made  thee 

free. 

Nor  Thou,  O  noble  Nation,  who  wast  so  slow  to  wrath, 
With  grief  too  heavy-laden  follow  in  duty's  path  ; 
Not  for  ourselves  our  lives  are ;  not  for  Thyself  art  Thou  ; 
The  Star  of  Christian  Ages  is  shining  on  Thy  brow. 

Rejoice,  O  mighty  Mother,  that  God  hath  chosen  Thee 
To  be  the  western  warder  of  the  Islands  of  the  Sea; 
He  lifteth  up,  He  casteth  down,  He  is  the  King  of  Kings, 
Whose  dread  commands  o'er  awe-struck  lands  are  borne 
on  eagles'  wings. 


174  CHILDREN'S   HYMN 


Cljitorm'tf 


"THY  Kingdom  come," 

The  Nation's  children  pray  ; 
And  may  the  little  patriots  of  the  home 
For  Christ  prepare  the  way  ! 

Beneath  the  starry  folds  that  o'er  them  wave 

Shall  they  in  strength  increase  ; 
And  may  our  youth  be  simple,  kind,  and  brave, 

And  bring  the  reign  of  peace  ! 

Far  East,  far  West,  far  South,  far  North, 

One  home  of  brothers  are  ; 
And  may  some  cause  to  die  for  lead  them  forth 

When  they  go  out  to  war  ! 

And  may  they  nobly  do  and  greatly  dare, 

And  true  be  every  son, 
While  o'er  her  children  breathes  the  Nation's  prayer, 

"  Thy  Will  be  done  !  " 


THE   ROSE-GIVER  175 


a  g>tu&ent 


IF  love  within  thee  surely  wake, 
If  springs  the  will's  divine  control, 

Bear  thou  to  see  the  ideal  take 
Imperfect  form  in  thy  young  soul. 


THICK  from  the  banks  my  unreturning  roses 
I  strew,  love-singing,  on  the  golden  river ; 

And  every  bud  the  poet's  heart  discloses ; 

Oft,  homesick  for  his  songs,  weeps  the  Rose-giver. 


176     PROFESSOR  A.  V.  WILLIAMS  JACKSON 


,  Williams 


MY  Persian,  leave  the  Eternal  Fire, 

And  leave  to  read  the  scented  scroll, 
Pahlavi,  Pali  ;  nor  desire 

Always  that  glory  to  unroll, 
Your  bright  Avesta  ;  day  and  night 

God  did  divide  with  sun  and  star 
To  show  that  equal  in  His  sight 

Labor  and  rest,  in  mortals  are. 
A  fragment  yet  of  unspent  youth 

Is  left  ;  and  yours  the  social  grace 
That  finds  sweet  passages  for  truth, 

And  brings  the  soul  into  the  face  ; 
As  oft  I  prove,  whose  winter  hour 

More  than  my  blazing  log  you  cheer, 
And  dropping  many  a  sudden  flower 

Of  Orient  speech  make  Shiraz  here, 
The  while  with  golden-clouded  pipes, 

Amid  my  books,  at  kindly  ease, 
We  seek  to  cast  anew  the  types 

Of  that  old  Truth  which  cannot  cease, 


PROFESSOR  A.  V.  WILLIAMS  JACKSON     177 

The  dream  that  lights  the  heart's  desire, 

The  law  that  whirls  the  planet's  frame, 
One  in  the  never-dying  fire, 

One  in  the  never-lighted  flame  ; 
We  strive  to  trace  the  world-wide  lift 

Of  man  through  poet,  prophet,  priest ; 
The  tongues  die  out,  the  races  shift, 

But  evermore  is  God  increased ; 
And  who  His  flaming  path  shall  bind, 

Which  through  the  Zodiac's  mystery  runs  ? 
Round  Zoroaster,  undivined, 

The  same  skies  flashed  a  million  suns. 
Still  will  you  chase,  uncaptured  yet, 

The  young  wild-fire  of  Shelley's  lore, 
And  marvelling  how  the  Magian  met 

His  Shadow  in  the  garden,  pore ; 
Till  light  the  talk  will  smoothly  veer 

To  Shakspere,  and  our  England  blend 
With  Time's  lone  names  —  hid  poets  dear, 

Like  him  I  prize,  once  Sidney's  friend, 
Greville,  wise  matter  gravely  mixed, 

Whose  thoughts,  he  said,  were  "  eagles'  food," 
As  ours  should  be,  who  late  have  fixed 

Our  eyrie,  lord  of  all  the  wood, 

N 


178     PROFESSOR  A.  V.  WILLIAMS  JACKSON 

On  Morningside  ;  young  eagles  there 

Try  with  contention  of  their  wings 
Who  first,  with  pinions  smiting  air, 

The  sunrise  from  his  plumage  flings  — 
Columbia's  brood  :  there,  even  as  saith 

Our  own  glad  Scriptures,  under  God, 
She  stirs  the  nest,  she  fluttereth 

Over  her  young,  and  spreads  abroad 
Her  wings,  and  taketh  them,  and  bears 

Them  on  her  wings  —  ah,  too  soon  flown, 
Our  eagles,  gone  to  noble  cares 

And  tasks  of  greatness  all  their  own  ! 
But  few  shall  such  a  realm  survey 

As  you  have  won,  and,  craving  more, 
Like  Alexander,  will  not  stay 

Your  Indian  conquest,  who  before 
Iran  and  Hellas  ruled ;  refrain 

To  tempt  the  heavens  with  doing  well, 
Lest,  from  my  side  too  early  ta'en, 

Only  your  memory  with  me  dwell. 


But  come  !  now  burns  the  autumn  sea, 
September-golden,  languid  blue, 


PROFESSOR  A.  V.  WILLIAMS  JACKSON     179 

Long  morning  hours ;  till,  wild  and  free, 

With  wings  as  if  the  great  deep  flew, 
The  wind  comes  up  the  harbor-mouth, 

And  breaks  the  calm,  and  beads  the  crest, 
And  hues  the  purple-watered  South, 

And  glitters  down  the  fluttering  West ; 
Day  slowly  dies,  nor  gathers  gloom  — 

A  softer  beauty ;  faintly  clear 
Through  reaches  of  the  rosy  bloom 

Revolves  the  silver  starry  sphere ; 
Still  blows  the  fragrant  brine ;  once  more 

The  island-gateways  flood  with  light ; 
The  moon  is  up ;  put  off  from  shore, 

And  lapt  on  tides  of  wakeful  night, 
And  blowing  with  the  canvas  cloud, 

Know  me  in  my  Atlantic  home  — 
The  wave-wet  deck,  the  singing  shroud, 

The  rail  half  buried  in  the  foam  ! 
Next  morn,  new  joys.     'Twere  long  to  tell 

This  Essex ;  I  am  grown  too  fond, 
Too  many  years  have  loved  it  well, 

And  roved  dark  wood  and  lilied  pond 
In  my  first  days ;  I  promise  you 

The  bird's-nest,  though  the  bird  be  flown ; 


i8o     PROFESSOR  A.  V.  WILLIAMS  JACKSON 

Come,  learn  the  boy  you  never  knew, 

From  odors  of  the  pine-tree  blown, 
And  heavy  salt-scents  of  the  sea, 

And  distant  gleams,  like  Virgil's  bough ; 
So  shall  our  mutual  memories  be 

Life-whole,  as  love  is  heart-whole  now. 
Then  shall  you  go  from  out  the  gold 

October  to  your  star-leaved  Book, 
And  those  gray  manuscripts  unrolled 

Whereon  the  white-robed  Parsees  look, 
And  they  forget  these  changing  lights 

Of  morn  and  even,  here  below ; 
To  eyes  like  yours  how  must  our  Heights 

Like  snowy  Alborz'  sunrise  glow  ! 
So  springeth  there  the  dawning  truth, 

Forever  breaking  into  morn, 
Whose  glory  in  the  heart  of  youth 

With  Orient  fire,  each  day,  is  born. 


TO   E.   M.   O.  181 


0  MOTHER  heart,  whose  children,  fair  and  strong, 
And  children's  children  round  thy  dear  hearth  stand, 
A  love-united  and  unbroken  band, 

While  near  them  presses  close  a  silent  throng ; 
Suffer  me,  too,  to  come,  thy  child  of  song, 
As  when  in  boyhood  from  the  salt  sea  strand, 
Thy  wandering  guest,  unto  the  harvest  land 

1  came ;  whence  all  thy  own  to  me  belong. 
God  on  thy  head  pour  multiplied  His  grace, 
And  yield  thee,  nearer  to  the  life  divine, 
Foregleams  of  light,  touches  of  heavenly  peace  ! 
Long  years  the  mother  radiates  from  thy  face, 
And  through  long  years  shall  still  celestial  shine 
Unseen,  nor  in  thy  children  ever  cease. 


1 82  REQUIEM 


Requiem 

THOMAS   RANDOLPH   PRICE 

SLEEP,  soldier  of  the  South,  who  loved  me  well ! 
In  many  a  heart  is  heard  thy  passing  bell, 
Here  in  the  North  where  thy  last  labor  was, 
And  down  lone  valleys  of  the  long  lost  cause 
Where  thy  young  mates,  lapped  in  heroic  sleep, 
Their  green  peace,  envied  of  the  living,  keep. 
The  harder  lot  was  thine,  —  to  live  and  toil 
That  sons  as  noble  grace  their  native  soil. 
Sleep,  gentle  scholar  of  the  golden  lore 
Of  English  speech,  who  from  thy  Attic  store 
Brought  mastery  of  all  tongues  that  poets  use 
And  Europe  ripens,  sacred  to  the  Muse  ! 

0  loyal  nature,  learned,  eloquent, 
Whose  kindly  courtesy  to  all  men  went, 

1  praise  thee  not  for  these,  though  worthy  praise ; 
These  have  I  found  not  seldom  in  life's  ways. 
But  the  sweet  patience  which  adorned  thy  life, 
To  take  the  blows  of  this  half-brutish  strife, 


;;JV£RQfTY  j 
REQUIEM  183 

And,  if  on  thee  some  natural  griefs  must  rain, 
With  quietness  to  dignify  thy  pain,  — 
This,  more  than  all  the  Muses'  garnered  art, 
Taught  reverence  to  my  eyes,  love  to  my  heart ; 
For  thou  hadst  borne  the  worst,  and  learned  to  bear 
All  lesser  sorrows  in  one  great  despair. 
O  much  enduring  soul  who  enterest  peace, 
Still  shall  our  love  for  thee  on  earth  increase ; 
Now,  poet,  scholar,  soldier,  on  death's  plain 
Sleep  with  thy  early  friends  in  battle  slain  ! 


184  TO   1903,   COLUMBIA 


1903,  CEolumbta 


TWELVE  are  the  years  Columbia  gave  to  me ; 

Twelve  are  the  classes  of  happy  memory ; 

And  yours  the  last  of  the  twelve,  and  no  more  shall  be. 

But  O,  to  say  farewell  and  fond  adieu  ! 

Four  years  to  me  are  dear,  and  dearer  far  to  you ; 

And  the  years,  that  seemed  so  many,  are  found  too  few. 

I  taught  you  the  ways  of  life,  as  poets  teach ; 

Scott,  Shelley,  Tennyson,  you  heard  me  preach ; 

Yet  most  through  my  own  heart  to  your  hearts  I  reach. 

I  taught  you  Shakspere  next,  the  infinite  brain,  — 
Romeo,  Hamlet,  Lear,  —  our  life  of  pain ; 
And  by  my  art  I  turned  this  woe  to  gain. 

I  taught  you  Plato  in  his  masterhood, 

Who,  loving  beauty,  found  thereby  the  good ; 

Yet  in  myself  nearer  to  you  I  stood ; 


TO   1903,   COLUMBIA  185 

And  more  received,  giving  rny  brain  and  heart, 
From  whose  exhausted  springs  new  fountains  start, 
Because  you  made  your  lives  of  mine  a  part. 

Where  leaped  the  shell,  my  heart  rowed  with  the  crew ; 
My  hand  was  on  the  tape,  where  Bishop  flew ; 
Where  broke  the  blue  flag,  I  was  there  with  you. 

The  years  of  football  your  bright  records  grace ; 
Game  called,  you  saw  me  always  in  my  place ; 
I  taught  your  Harold  the  famed  Fennel  Race ; 

And  glad  I  saw  him  down  the  dazed  field  skim 
In  his  first  years ;  and  much  I  honor  him, 
Borne  shoulder-high,  until  my  eyes  grow  dim. 

You  wonder  not  who  heard  that  April  day, 

I  praised,  loud-voiced,  the  perfect  Harvard  way 

Of  Marshall  Newell,  when  I  left  the  play. 

Nor  less,  because  I  mingled  with  you  so, 

Shall  you  my  intimate  power,  befriending,  know, 

Lifelong,  within  your  souls,  where'er  you  go. 


186  TO   1903,    COLUMBIA 

O,  why  recall  what  was  to  me  most  dear, 
The  Crown,  where  duly,  year  by  shining  year, 
The  best  Americans  received  our  cheer  ? 

Yet  more,  far  more,  generous  you  gave  to  me,  — 
Your  banded  hearts  in  perfect  loyalty ; 
Whence  I  your  debtor  must  forever  be. 

A  thousand  times  the  loud  Columbia  cheer, 
Linked  with  my  name,  has  fallen  upon  my  ear, 
Sweeter  and  sweeter  with  each  passing  year, 

Though  yours  the  last  with  those  of  old  combine ; 
A  thousand  young  Columbia  hearts  are  mine, 
Though  yours  the  last,  crowning  the  happy  line 

With  love  and  honor,  honor  and  love  to  one, 
Whose  labor  for  Columbia  hearts  is  done, 
Though  not  his  love,  a  love  not  lightly  won. 

I  murmur  not,  when  fate  has  struck  the  ball ; 
The  work  our  hands  have  raised  can  never  fall ; 
Yet  in  my  heart  I  grieve  to  end  it  all. 


TO   1903,    COLUMBIA  187 

Not  unto  me  be  praise,  the  praise  not  mine ; 
Praise  ye  the  poets  dead,  and  power  divine 
Whence  they  had  strength ;  pray  God,  their  strength  be 
thine  ! 

Break  hands,  and  part ;  but  long  this  verse  endures, 

And  love  to  all  and  each  loyal  assures, 

With  yours,  and  ever  and  ever  yours,  and  yours. 


i88  EXETER   ODE 


(fleeter 


READ   AT   THE   DEDICATION   OF   ALUMNI    HALL,    PHILLIPS 
EXETER   ACADEMY,    JUNE    17,    1903 

I 

THERE  is  no  Heliconian  spring 

Nor  fountain  of  perpetual  youth 

So  much  of  Paradise  can  bring 

As  lights  the  haunt  of  early  truth, 

Here  where  budding  boys  together 

Fill  the  world  with  April  weather, 

And  the  branch  of  life  is  breathing  sweet  ; 

Sound  of  limb  and  pure  of  heart, 

Eager  tremblers  for  the  start, 

In  the  mimic  arts  of  power  they  compete  ; 

And  the  ringing  of  the  coming  years  is  in  their  feet. 

We  turn,  and  with  fond  gaze  look  back 
On  scenes  that  nurse  their  growing  years, 
The  triumphs  of  the  field  and  track, 
The  glory  of  the  distant  cheers, 
Where  they  forge  fresh  strength  and  daring, 
Schoolboy  ensigns  proudly  wearing 


EXETER   ODE  189 

To  the  victor-music  in  their  blood ; 

In  the  onset  and  the  shock 

Learn  how  human  forces  lock 

To  the  banded  bringing  of  the  common  good ; 

And  the  youthful  fighters  melt  in  joyful  brotherhood. 

Now  for  us  a  dearer  past  remains 
Which  may  their  manhood,  too,  recall, 
Higher  pleasures,  deeper  pains, 
That  here  heaven's  grace  let  fall ; 
Motions  of  the  heart  of  youth 
Beneath  the  brooding  wings  of  truth ; 
Burning  clefts  of  opening  heaven 
To  Paul  by  old  Damascus  given ; 
The  lonely  hours,  the  unshed  tears, 
Sacred  hopes  and  holy  fears, 
While  rumors  of  the  distant  strife 
Came  drifting  from  the  vague  of  life  ; 
These  also  to  our  high  youth  did  belong ; 
And  the  sad  majesty  of  song, 
The  tragic  load  of  Homer's  age, 
The  breathing  woe  of  Virgil's  page, 
Swept  the  young  soul  that  yearns  for  home 
Where  save  through  death  it  shall  not  come. 


190  EXETER   ODE 

Ah  me,  beneath  this  blue  elm-branched  sky 

How  many  a  boy  since  then  comes  nigh 

To  God  in  his  infinitude, 

As  the  sweet   arbutus  puts   forth  beneath   the   sighing 

wood ! 

In  every  youth  once  beats  the  poet's  heart, 
While  in  his  bosom  these  bright  ardors  start ; 
And  dearly  then  the  affections,  lorn  and  lone, 
Cling  round  the  breast  where  first  a  friend  is  known : 
Hark,  'tis  the  rushing  cries  of  life  and  sound  of  trumpets 

blown  ! 

II 

Another  morn  has  fired  the  world ; 

A  mightier  labor  is  begun ; 

A  thousand  standards  bright  unfurled 

Lean  forward  from  the  rising  sun. 

Who  are  these  the  fresh  hosts  heading, 

Prompt  to  lead  and  strong  in  steading, 

To  the  old  tradition  grandly  true  ? 

Whose  that  rock-like  brow  of  fate, 

Black  with  thunder  of  the  state  ?  — 

Round  us  when  insidious  discord  falsely  drew, 

Freedom's  barrier  of  men  that  great  voice  built  anew. 


EXETER  ODE  191 

There  soldiers  shine,  there  scholars  walk, 

Dark  heroes  plough  the  navied  sea ; 

And  arms  and  letters  interlock 

To  make  our  golden  history. 

These  are  they  whose  young  eyes  beaming 

Under  these  dear  elms  went  dreaming 

What  the  world  should  be  when  they  were  men ; 

Sinews  of  the  upland  farm, 

Souls  with  old  religion  warm, 

Never  time  brings  here  that  wielding  race  again, 

Equal  lords  of  church  and  state,  mace  and  sword  and  pen. 

Forward  ever  move  the  endless  rows 

Upon  the  battle-tossing  fields ; 

Glory  brightens  where  they  close ; 

Truth  blazes  from  their  shields  j 

Servants  not  of  brutal  wars 

That  only  leave  a  nation's  scars ; 

They  have  chosen  better  parts, 

To  serve  mankind  with  healing  arts, 

To  bring  on  earth  humaner  laws, 

Lift  o'er  force  persuasion's  cause, 

And  ease  the  strife  of  rich  and  poor, 

While  love  and  peace  grow  more  and  more ; 


1 92  EXETER   ODE 

They  plant  new  virtues  in  their  country's  soil, 
Wielding  the  world  of  modern  toil 
Whence  science  pours  in  ceaseless  floods 
The  horn  of  man's  beatitudes; 
Their  treasury  is  knowledge  free, 
Their  highest  wisdom  liberty ; 
And  glad  their  leading  is,  who,  where  they  go, 
The  victor's  track  with  blessings  strew ; 
Whose  error-killing  power  entrains 
Dethroned  superstitions  dead,  dead  immemorial  pains. 
Unto  this  war  we  swore  our  youthful  vow ; 
Unto  this  war  our  sons  press  forward  now 
From  this  fair  fount  of  civilizing  power, 
Where  life's  first  vigor  did  our  young  limbs  dower, 
Loved  in  our  loyal  boyhood  here,  and  loved  in  manhood's 
hour. 

Ill 

Guard  well  the  Mother-eagle's  nest 
That  stores  the  Northern  granite's  might, 
Whence,  ranging  down  the  sunny  West, 
A  hundred  broods  took  flight ! 
There  the  golden  fledglings  slumber 
Who  the  morning  light  shall  cumber 


EXETER   ODE  193 

With  the  clangor  of  their  rising  wings ; 

Unto  them  from  unborn  years 

Radiance  of  new  glory  nears, 

And  the  rushing  of  their  pinions  music  brings, 

That  the  genius  of  the  ageless  world  forever  sings. 

The  noble  lives  that  went  before 
Shall  nourish  best  those  hearts  of  youth, 
The  virtues  of  the  men  of  yore 
Establish  them  in  ways  of  truth. 
Set  before  their  morning  beauty 
Our  worn  chieftains,  great  in  duty, 
Who  in  life's  rich  danger  took  their  share  ! 
Where  is  honor  like  to  this, 
Where  is  fame  so  touched  with  bliss 
As  to  be  remembered  long  and  fairly  there, 
There  to  be  remembered  fairly  where  the  thoughts  of 
boyhood  were? 

Honor  to  the  brave,  the  wise,  the  good, 

Whose  lives  in  this  old  school  began  ! 

Our  Exonian  brotherhood 

Earns  gratitude  of  man. 

Here  let  bronze  and  marble  trace 

The  features  of  each  vanished  face ; 


i94  EXETER  ODE 

Stately  portraits,  looking  down, 
Show  Bancroft's  smile  and  Webster's  frown, 
Palfrey  benign  and  Everett's  grace, 
Cass's  craft  and  Phillips'  race, 
With  Soule's  and  Abbott's  hoary  age, 
And  all  our  sons  of  heritage. 

Here  shall  they  grow,  though  haughty,  high,  and  wise, 
Familiar  with  youth's  happy  eyes  ; 
For  even  the  greatest,  life  being  done, 
All  labor  o'er  beneath  the  sun, 
Shall  nowhere  find  a  nobler  part 
Than  here  to  touch  some  fair  boy's  heart ; 
They  watch  his  going  out  and  coming  in, 
Sink  in  his  mind,  and  deeply  win ; 
They  meet  young  thousands  face  to  face 
And  from  their  silent  seats  they  mix  with  this  new  race. 
The  youngest  student  heads  our  farthest  hope, 
Our  edge  and  limit  of  prophetic  scope  ; 
Ah,  if,  past  death,  our  torch  of  life  still  flames, 
Ah,  here  if  boyhood  treasures  up  our  names, 
This  is  the  laurel's  greenest  growth,  found  fresh  in  younger 
fames. 


THE   NORTH   SHORE   WATCH 


grtjore 


C.    L.   D. 

OBIIT    MDCCCLXXVIII 


FIRST  dead  of  all  my  dead  that  are  to  be, 

Who  at  life's  flush  with  me  wast  wont  to  roam 
The  pine-fringed  borders  of  this  surging  sea, 
From  far  and  lonely  lands  Love  brings  me  home 

To  this  wide  water's  foam; 
Here  thou  art  fallen  in  thy  joyful  days, 

Life  quenched  within  thy  breast,  light  in  thy  eyes ; 
And  darkly  from  thy  ruined  beauty  rise 

These  flowerless  myrtle-sprays ; 
The  hills  we  trod  enfold  thee  evermore, 
The  gray  and  sleepless  sea  breaks  round  the  orphaned 
shore. 


All  things  are  lovely  as  they  were,  and  still 

They  draw  with  gladness  toward  me  as  a  friend; 
197 


198    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

The  evening  star  doth  touch  me  with  the  thrill 
Of  welcome,  and  the  waves  their  voices  blend 

To  hail  my  exile's  end. 
Oft  while  I  wandered  in  those  weary  lands, 

This   dear-remembered    shore   would    comfort 

me, 
Seeing  in  thought  the  everlasting  sea 

Washing  his  yellow  sands ; 
But  now  the  scene  I  longed  for  gives  me  pain 
Since  he  is  dead,  and  ne'er  shall  feel  its  joy  again. 


in 

Still  planet,  making  beautiful  the  west, 

Bright  bringer  of  the  stars  and  sheltered  sleep, 
Easing  our  hearts,  as  some  beloved  guest, 
Whom  for  a  little  while  our  eyes  may  keep, 

And  through  long  years  shall  weep ; 
O  eloquent  with  flashes  to  the  soul, 

Even  as  his  eyes  beneath  thy  pure  empire 
Beamed  the  mute  music  of  the  heart's  desire, 

Thee,  too,  doth  fate  control ; 
And  brief  as  his  thy  hour  of  light  must  be  — 
To  earth  her  starry  hush,  my  solitude  to  me  ! 


THE  NORTH   SHORE  WATCH          199 

IV 

Yet  here  our  dayspring  long  ago  was  born, 

While  heaven  still  hovered  near  earth's  dusky  frame  ; 
Light  touched  the  isles,  and  joyously  the  morn 
O'erflowed  the  orient  with  prophetic  flame, 

And  on  the  waters  came, 

Crimson  and  pearl,  and  woke  the  singing  shore ; 
On  over  murmuring  waves  the  glad  light  swept ; 
On  through  the  west  the  loosened  glory  leapt 

The  far  blue  uplands  o'er ; 
And  slowly  rose  the  sun,  and  made  the  sea 
White  with  his  splendor,  and  filled  heaven  with  purity. 


Upon  this  beach  we  welcomed  in  the  world, 

And  loved  the  lore  of  its  wise  solitude, 
Where  on  the  foaming  sands  the  surges  swirled, 
Or  broad,  blue-belted  calm,  in  blessed  brood, 

Lay  many  a  shining  rood  ; 
Here  in  that  prime  we  kept  our  boyish  tryst, 
When  woke  our  April  and  the  need  to  rove  ; 
We  trod  the  mantle  that  the  white  moon  wove, 
We  pierced  the  star-looped  mist ; 


200    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

And  ever  where  our  eager  feet  might  roam, 
The  air  was  morning,  and  the  loneliest  spot  was  home. 

VI 

The  eloquent  voices  of  the  yearning  sea 

Called  to  us,  strong  as  syllables  of  fate, 
And,  wafting  in,  like  some  lost  memory, 
Subdued  us  to  the  haunting  hopes  that  wait 

Round  boyhood's  rapt  estate  ; 
The  deep  spell  moved,  a  passion  in  our  blood, 
And  made  the  throbbing  of  our  hearts  keep  time 
Unto  the  laughter  of  the  waves,  and  chime 

With  thunders  of  the  flood ; 
And  subtly  as  a  dream  takes  hue  and  form, 
Our    spirits    clothed    their  youth  in   ocean's   sun    and 
storm. 

VII 

Still  would  we  watch,  wave-borne  from  dawn  to  dark, 
The  pools  of  opal  gem  the  windless  bay ; 

Or  touch  at  eve  the  purple  isles,  and  mark 
Where,  by  the  moon,  far  on  the  edge  of  day, 
The  shore's  pale  crescent  lay ; 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    201 

Or  up  broad  river-reaches  are  we  gone, 

Through  sunset  mirrored  in  the  hollow  tide  — 
In  beauty  sphered,  as  some  lone  bird  enskied, 

The  halcyon  boat  drifts  on, 
To  twilight,  and  the  stars,  and  deepest  night, 
With  phosphorescent   gleams,  and  dark  oars  dropping 
light. 

VIII 

Ah,  then  a  presence  moved  within  this  deep, 

That  more  than  beauty  made  its  regions  dear ; 
O'er  the  long  levels  of  its  golden  sleep 
The  light  that  beams  from  the  eternal  year 

Flashed  on  the  spirit  clear ; 
And  wheresoe'er  we  saw  the  ocean  roll, 
With  sounds  of  harmony  his  waves  among, 
The  song  that  breathed  before  the  lyre  was  strung 

Gave  echo  to  the  soul ; 
And  tremulous  the  immortal  instincts  woke 
That  prophesy  of  Him  in  whom  the  sweet  dawn  broke. 

IX 

Alas,  the  faery  light  that  truth  once  wore  ! 
Alas,  the  easy  questing  of  the  heart ! 


202    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

When,  by  the  hushed  and  visionary  shore, 

The  dreaming  hope,  wherein  all  things  have  part, 

Made  our  young  pulses  start ! 
Once,  once  I  knew  thy  sweetness,  O  salt  sea  ! 
I  reaped  along  thy  furrows  bearded  grain ; 
Thy  groves,  that  never  drink  the  sun  nor  rain, 

Gave  nectarous  fruit  to  me ; 
And  all  thy  herbless  pastures  yielded  wine, 
Deep-hearted,    fragrant,    bright  —  ah,    then    his    hand 
clasped  mine  ! 


Ay,  heart  with  heart  companioned  we  went  on, 

And  ever  lovelier  was  the  wooded  shore ; 
More  joyous  bloomed  the  May,  and  warmer  shone 
The  slant  light  down  the  forest's  muffled  floor, 

With  music  vaulted  o'er ; 

Ah,  when  the  bluebird  through  the  meadows  darts, 
Still  yellow  dogtooths  gleam  amid  the  brakes, 
And  fearlessly  on  all  the  green-leaved  lakes 

Lilies  unfold  their  hearts  ; 

Earth's  children  slumber  when  the  wild  winds  rise  — 
The  tempest  passes  o'er,  and  heaven  looks  through  their 
eyes. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    203 

XI 

But  the  dark  pines,  whose  heart  is  like  the  sea's, 

Mourn  for  one  darling  flower  they  nurtured  here, 
With  morning  fed,  and  deep,  deep  harmonies  — 
The  sweetest  blossom  that  the  windy  year 

E'er  rifled  and  left  sere  ; 
Wake,  O  ye  violets  preluding  the  May, 
And  many  a  barren  slope  for  beauty  win  ! 
Burst,  O  white  laurels,  flush  your  cups  within, 

And  whisper,  spray  to  spray  ! 
But  till  the  cypress  buds,  and  blooms  the  yew, 
The  sylvan  year  brings  not  the  love  that  once  ye  knew. 

XII 

Too  swiftly  fled  the  green  and  fragrant  time  ! 

Bleak  on  the  vacant  earth  the  North  Wind  fell, 
Bitter  and  fierce,  to  beat  the  frozen  clime, 

In  shrivelled  fields  and  ruined  woods  to  dwell, 

And  on  the  flood's  black  swell ; 
But  us  the  rude  transformer  could  not  change  ; 
We  saw  his  pale  dominions  gleam  afar, 
His  keen  skies  flash  with  many  a  friendlier  star, 
And,  lo,  the  vision  strange  — 


204    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

Dear  to  our  faith  —  far  in  the  alien  north, 
With  faltering  hues    and  faint,  a  dream  of  morn  stole 
forth. 

XIII 

Such  presages  before  us  ever  went, 

And  flushed  the  skies  with  joyful  heraldings ; 
We  trusted  beauty —  'tis  the  element 

Wherein  the  soul  unfolds  her  poising  wings, 

And  heavenward  soars,  and  sings; 
But  in  the  dawn  and  by  the  star-swept  tides, 
In  dim  melodious  aisles  of  lonely  pines, 
We  felt  the  heart  of  sorrow  none  divines, 

That  in  all  things  abides ; 

And  borne  on  sighing  Winds  came  sounds  of  woe, 
Whose   burden  well  we   knew,   but   he   feared  not  to 
know. 

XIV 

I  saw  the  beauty  of  the  early  world 
More  lovely  imaged  in  his  lucid  mind ; 

Pure  at  his  heart  of  innocence  impearled 

Shone  the  white  truth  no  search  can  ever  find, 
In  love,  as  light,  enshrined ; 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    205 

Him  nature  folded  childlike  to  her  breast, 

Gave  him  her  peace,  her  strength,  her  ease,  her  joy  ; 
Fate  could  not  move  him,  doubt  could  not  annoy, 

Nor  sorrow,  all  men's  guest ; 
And  woven  of  her  music  fell  his  voice 
On  the  wide-glimmering  eve,  and  bade  my  soul  rejoice. 

xv 

"  Ere  yet  we  knew  Love's  name,"  he  said  to  me, 
"  He  gave  the  new  earth  to  our  boyish  hands  ; 
For  us  morn  blossoms,  and  the  azure  sea 

Ruffles  and  smooths  his  long  and  gleaming  sands 

Upon  a  hundred  strands; 
In  green  and  gold  the  radiant  mist  exhales, 

When  through  the  willow  buds  the  blue  March  blows, 
And  sowing  Persia  through  the  world  the  rose 

Reddens  our  western  vales  ; 

Clasped  with  the  light,  bathed  with  the  glowing  air, 
Rest  we  in  his  embrace  who  made  our  paths  so  fair  ! 

XVI 

"Why  fear  we?  wherefore  doubt?  is  Love  not  strong, 
Whose  starry  shield  o'er-roofs  our  mortal  way, 


206    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

Who  makes  his  home  within  our  hearts  lifelong, 
An  instinct  to  divine,  a  law  to  sway, 

A  hero's  faith  to  stay? 
See,  all  life  beats  responsive  to  his  might ; 
Its  yearning  in  his  tameless  hope  began ; 
Its  dawning  triumph  in  the  heart  of  man 

Is  his  far-beaconing  light ; 
He  builds  the  empire  of  the  golden  years ; 
The  red  strife,  too,  is  his,  the  field  of  blood  and  tears. 

XVII 

"Through  Him  we  look  toward  life  with  conquering 

eyes, 

Nor  swerve,  nor  falter,  though  his  fire  must  blend 
With  our  young  hearts  as  flame  with  sacrifice, 
Consuming  all  we  are  for  that  great  end 

He  bids  our  souls  befriend ; 
The  laws  invincible  of  his  firm  state 

Work  with  us  till  the  vision  grows  the  fact, 
And  thought,  slow-suppling  into  perfect  act, 

Makes  our  desire  our  fate ; 
Nor  elsewise  unto  truth  may  man  attain, 
Though  built  in  Shelley's  heart,  though  orbed  in  Shaks- 
pere's  brain. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    207 

XVIII 

"  His  are  we,  as  we  were  before  we  saw 

The  murder-strife  that  ravin  cannot  sate, 

The  fierce,  incessant  moan,  the  strokes  of  law, 

The  deep  betrayal  of  our  birth  and  state 

That  baffles  us  with  fate  ; 
Be  life's  inevitable  sadness  ours, 

The  evil  that  we  cannot  help  but  will, 
The  good  with  viewless  consequence  in  ill, 

Our  maimed  and  thwarted  powers  ! 
Nor  yet "  —  I  hear  him  say  —  "  repining  know, 
The  shadow-clouded  earth  through  the  blue  deep  must  go. 

XIX 

"  It  moves,  and  plunges  to  the  central  sun, 

Its  paltry  ruin  flashes,  and  is  gone ; 
The  stars,  indifferent,  their  calm  courses  run, 
The  constellations  shine  as  erst  they  shone, 

The  clustered  heavens  go  on  ; 
Who  shall  foresee  of  all  the  one  blind  doom 
When  darkness  shall  inhabit  torpid  space, 
Still,  starless,  orphaned  of  dawn's  lovely  face, 
Unfathomable  tomb  !  — 


208    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

Yet  may  the  soul  pitch  her  adventure  high, 
With  beauty  and  with  love  impassioned,  though  we  die. 


xx 

"  Beauty  that  sings  of  unisons  unseen, 

Bright  emanation  of  consenting  laws, 
In  flower,  wave,  shell,  blue  skies,  and  pastures  green, 
The  passing  of  the  power  that  hath  no  pause, 

That  knows  nor  fate  nor  cause ; 
The  thrill  of  life  aye  pulsing  through  the  void, 
With  rhythmic  motions  felt  in  sun  and  star, 
And  galaxies  of  splendor  streaming  far, 

Nor  in  their  woe  destroyed ; 
The  presence  wonderful,  beneath,  above  — 
In  the  lone  heart  of  man  it  wakes,  incarnate  Love. 


XXI 

"  It  hallows  all,  the  aureole  He  wears 
Whom  frail  mortality  hath  never  bound ; 

Who  in  his  hands  the  burning  sphere  upbears, 
Though  stars  grow  gray,  their  dateless  ruin  found, 
And  perish  in  their  round ; 


THE   NORTH   SHORE   WATCH  209 

He  is  — and,  lo,  'tis  loveliness  we  see, 

The  heavens  majestic,  and  the  joyous  earth ; 
Is  not  —  and  all  the  glory  and  the  mirth 

Are  things  of  memory ; 
Long,  long  o'er  us  be  his  divine  control  — 
The  beauty  of  the  world,  the  rapture  of  the  soul !  " 

XXII 

Such  musings  ours  upon  the  moonlit  shore, 

While  dark  with  motion  sways  the  luminous  tide ; 
On  come  the  long,  black  waves,  and,  whitening  o'er, 
Fall,  far- resounding,  eddy,  and  divide, 

And  up  the  smooth  sands  glide : 
So,  life-engirdling,  shone  eternal  truth, 
So  darkly  luminous,  so  swift,  so  strong, 
Flooding  our  mortal  brink,  it  broke  along 

The  winding  shores  of  youth ; 
There  silent,  glad,  in  Love's  repose  we  lay  — 
Calm  was  among  the  stars,  peace  on  the  heaving  bay. 

XXIII 

O,  wherefore  could  we  not  forever  dwell 
In  that  seclusion  of  the  world  new-born, 
p 


210  THE   NORTH   SHORE   WATCH 

Where  on  our  passive  youth  the  promise  fell 

That  dawns  beneath  the  sweet  brows  of  the  morn, 

The  light  none  lives  to  scorn  ! 
Too  soon  we  left  the  haunts  of  boyish  thought ; 
Moored  swung  the  boat  beside  the  shining  sea ; 
The  arethusas  flowered  in  secrecy, 

And  fell,  unloved,  unsought ; 
Lone  the  rare  cardinal,  autumn's  herald,  stood; 
The  bittersweet  gleamed  red  in  the  deserted  wood. 


XXIV 

One  watch  was  ours  ;  far  o'er  the  ebbing  sea, 

Heavy  and  dark,  the  rainy  shadows  lay ; 
From  his  familiar  door  he  walked  with  me 

To  that  broad  hill,  grown  dear  in  boyhood's  day, 

The  old  field-trodden  way ; 
Chill  rose  the  mists,  and  faint  the  distant  roar 
Of  ocean  sounded ;  our  old  seat  we  took 
Silent  and  sad ;  cold  autumn's  dying  look 

The  summer  landscape  wore  ; 
We  minded  not  —  in  our  hearts  shadows  were 
The  wide  earth  harbors  not,  housing  their  misery  there. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    211 

XXV 

The  Hour  sprang  forth  from  universal  time, 

Of  his  joy-hearted  race  the  last  sad  Hour ; 
Crowned  heir  of  all  his  brothers  of  the  prime, 
Bodied  more  nobly,  girt  with  secret  power, 

Starred  with  love's  passion-flower ; 
Through  night  he  sprang,  and  black  the  flakes  of  gloom 
Fled,  afar  off,  the  lustre  of  his  feet ; 
Our  hill  he  sought,  and  made  the  darkness  sweet, 

Staying  the  wand  of  doom ; 
And  dear  as  from  the  Grail's  all-precious  sight, 
Grace  from  his  presence  flowed,  and  fell  on  us  as  light. 

XXVI 

We  seemed  to  live  within  the  soul  alone 

Of  sorrow's  silent  love  the  loftier  mood ; 
The  spirit,  vibrant  to  love's  perfect  tone, 
Sang  love  that  was,  more  subtly  understood, 

In  love  to  be,  renewed ; 

And  was  death  hovering  there,  with  shades  of  woe, 
Round  that  dear  head  the  sullen  frosts  confine  ?  — 
Dear  hands,  dear  lips,dear  eyes,  I  knew  thee  mine, 
Mine,  mine,  where'er  I  go  ! 


212    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

The  Hour  was  dead  ;  we  rose,  we  took  our  ways, 
Forever  lost  to  sight  through  all  the  exiled  days. 


XXVII 

O  Song,  move  softly  through  the  laurelled  lyre, 

O  melancholy  music  breathing  woe ; 
With  strains  that  trembling  loose  love's  wild  desire, 
And  waft  it  to  its  peace,  through  sorrow  go, 

With  ocean  pauses,  slow  ! 
Strike  nobler  notes,  O  laden  as  thou  art, 
That  die  not  on  the  ear  with  dying  tones; 
O,  touch  the  finer  chords  man's  nature  owns 

To  ease  the  breaking  heart ; 
And  harmonies  that  of  the  soul  partake, 
Heard  in  the  days  of  joy,  in  evil  days  awake  ! 

XXVIII 

Heavy  is  exile  wheresoe'er  it  be  ! 

Or  where  his  armored  ship's  strong  bows  divide 
Green,  empty  hollows  of  the  Afric  sea, 

Or    where    my    broad-browed    prairies,    westering 

wide, 
A  race  of  men  abide ; 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    213 

And  life  in  exile  is  a  thing  of  fears, 
A  song  bereaved  of  music,  a  delight 
That  sorrow's  tooth  doth  feast  on,  day  and  night, 

A  hope  dissolved  in  tears, 
A  poem  in  the  dying  spirit  —  aught 
Lost  to  its  use  and  beauty,  desolate,  idle,  naught ! 

XXIX 

Heavy  is  exile  wheresoe'er  it  be  ! 

To  miss  the  sense  of  love  from  out  the  days ; 
To  wake,  and  work,  and  tire,  nor  ever  see 

Love's  glowing  eyes  suffused  with  tender  rays  — 

Darling  of  human  praise  ! 
To  lose  love's  ministry  from  out  our  life, 

Nor  gentle  labor  know  for  dear  ones  wrought, 
When  once  love  lorded  the  thronged  ways  of  thought, 

And  quelled  the  harsh  world  strife ; 
To  feel  the  hungering  spirit  slowly  stilled, 
While  hours  and  months  and  years  the  barren  seasons 
build. 

XXX 

Ever  to  watch,  like  an  unfriended  guest, 
The  sun  rise  up  and  lead  the  days  through  heaven, 


214    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

The  silent  days,  on  to  the  flaming  west, 
The  unrecorded  days,  to  darkness  given, 

Unloved,  unwept,  unshriven ; 
With  our  great  mother,  Earth,  to  live  alone ; 
To  clasp  in  silence  Wisdom's  moveless  knees; 
To    fix    dumb    eyes,   that    know    fate's    whelming 

seas, 

On  her  eternal  throne  ; 

While  better  seems  it,  were  the  soul  sunk  deep 
In  life's  death-mantled  pool,  sealed  in  oblivious  sleep  ! 

XXXI 

"  Alas,"  I  cried,  beneath  the  sun-bright  sky, 

"  What  profits  it  to  search  what  Athens  says  — 
To  heap  a  little  learning  ere  we  die, 

Blind  pilgrims,  walk  the  world's  deserted  ways, 

And  lose  the  living  days ; 
To  cheat  sad  memory's  self  with  storied  woes ; 
To  summon  up  sweet  visions  out  of  books 
Wherein  old  poets  have  enshrined  love's  looks ; 

To  seek  in  pain  repose  ; 
O,  cup  of  bitterness  he  too  must  taste, 
Shut  in  his  homeless  ship  upon  the  salt  sea-waste  ! " 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    215 

XXXII 

What  though  o'er  him  the  tropic  sunset  bloom, 

With  hyacinthine  hues  and  sanguine  dyes, 
And  down  the  central  deep's  profoundest  gloom 
Soft  blossoms,  fallen  from  the  wreathed  skies, 

The  seas  imparadise? 

With  light  immingling,  colors,  dipped  in  May, 
Through  multitudinous  changes  still  endure  — 
Orange  and  unimagined  emeralds  pure 

Drift  through  the  softened  day ; 
"Alas,"  he  whispers,  "and  art  thou  not  nigh? 
Earth  reaches  now  her  height  of  beauty  ere  I  die." 

XXXIII 

And  I  give  answer,  —  "  Would  that  he  were  here  ! 

Three  halos,  crescent-horned,  of  purest  grain, 
In  shadowless  keen  ether  burning  clear, 

In  morn's  blue  eastern  depths,  a  glory,  reign, 

Burn  brighter,  burn,  and  wane  ; 
Never  to  us,"  I  whisper,  "  by  that  strand 
Stepped  morn,  so  diademed  upon  the  sea ; 
Sweet  wanderer,  joyous  shall  thy  roaming  be 
Across  this  wind-swept  land  ! 


216    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

Urge  on  thy  western  flight  and  die  in  bliss  ! 
On    those    unsheltered   waves    his    temples   didst   thou 
kiss." 

XXXIV 

Brief  now  his  voyaging  is  o'er  those  far  seas, 

By  shoal  and  reef  that  the  lost  mariner  mock, 

By  lands  of  palm  that  nurse  the  poisoned  breeze, 

And  pillared  isles  whose  foam-girt  bases  rock 

With  the  tornado's  shock ; 
The  branding  suns  smite  down  on  glassy  waves ; 
They  sink ;  on  high  strange  stars  malignant  roll, 
The  regents  of  the  pale,  untravelled  pole, 

Whose  coasts  no  mortal  braves  : 
Why  will  he  on?  —  Come  back,  O  bleeding  heart ! 
O   stricken   soul,   return !     Death   hunteth   where   thou 
art. 

XXXV 

Eager  as  sea-birds  from  their  bonds  set  free, 
He  sought  the  ancient  harbors  of  his  home ; 

The  Southern  Cross  fell  in  the  frozen  sea, 

And  stars  of  gladness,  washed  in  northern  foam, 
His  boyhood  heavens  upclomb  ; 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    217 

Once  more  beneath  the  tender  spring  he  drinks 
The  fountains  of  his  youth  for  which  he  yearned ; 
The  beauty  of  the  shore,  like  love  returned, 

Deep  in  his  spirit  sinks ; 
The  violets  linger,  wide  the  laurels  bloom  — 
Alas,  the  flowering  earth  is  his  eternal  tomb  ! 

xxxvi 

Moan,  melancholy  Ocean,  he  is  dead 

In  whom  thou  hadst  thy  life,  thy  throbbing  joy  ! 
Our  woe,  O  melancholy  Ocean,  shed 
In  music  round  thy  ever-strangered  boy, 

Whom  the  blind  deeps  destroy  ! 
Waken,  dark  pines  !  that  ruinous  eclipse 

Hath  broke  the  tender  league  of  musing  youth, 
And  shut  love's  insights  and  the  hopes  of  truth 

Within  his  parted  lips  ; 

I  take,  ay  me,  no  welcome  from  his  hands  — 
He  comes  not  through  the  wood,  nor  down  the  shadowy 
sands. 

XXXVII 

From  him  the  lone  sun  doth  withhold  his  light ; 
To  him  lorn  eve  her  western  star  denies ; 


2i8    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

But  O,  a  lovelier  world  hath  sunk  in  night, 
Its  music-breathing  fields,  its  dreaming  skies, 

Dark  in  his  darkened  eyes ; 
The  rapturous  element  is  still,  in  him, 
And  all  of  nature  that  can  perish,  dead ; 
Oblivion  gathers  o'er  his  obscure  head ; 

Death  binds  him,  face  and  limb ; 
Earth-sundered  soul,  no  beauty  now  he  knows, 
Nor  sense  nor  act  of  love  sweetens  his  long  repose. 


XXXVIII 

On  crag  and  beach  I  hear  his  threnody ; 

I  touch  the  myrtles  clinging  round  his  grave ; 
But  weak  is  all  that  severs  him  from  me, 

Faint  and  far  off,  although  my  heart  will  crave 

The  old  response  he  gave ; 
No,  not  the  moaning  waves  nor  sighing  pines 
Persuade  my  soul  of  loss,  nor  blinding  tears  — 
I  love  him,  I  shall  love  through  lonely  years, 

Where'er  my  life  declines ; 
I  lean  my  head  down  to  the  flowerless  sod  — 
I  feel  his  shepherding  as  when  on  earth  he  trod. 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    219 

XXXIX 

Mortality  sways  not,  while  heaven  shall  last, 

The  starry  years  that  were  when  he  was  mine ; 
Death  blots  not  out  a  fair-recorded  past, 

Whose  meanings  deeper  are  than  men  divine, 

Who  write  it,  line  by  line ; 
The  years  of  noble  life  are  pledges  deep, 
That  bind  futurity  our  souls  to  friend ; 
Woe  cannot  cancel  them,  nor  far  time  end 

The  privilege  they  keep ; 

They  live  —  their  light  still  blessed  where  it  leads, 
Their  hoarded  music  loosed,  pure  song,  in  perfect  deeds. 

XL 

Yea,  he  to  whom  Love  was  as  God  is  dead ; 

Cold,  mute,  and  dark,  he  unresponsive  lies ; 
A  joyless  form,  the  kindling  presence  fled, 
The  spirit  faded  from  his  wistful  eyes ; 

No  more  will  he  arise  ! 
Yet  not  in  vain  was  our  adoring  trust, 

Our  deep-vowed  fealty,  our  service  done ; 
To  finer  issues  love  that  was  lives  on, 
Nor  moulders  into  dust : 


220    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

Of  Love,  the  Giver,  still  my  song  must  be, 
The  Victor,  Love,  repeat,  whose  grace  descends  on  me. 

XLI 

Love  blends  with  mine  the  spirit  I  deplore, 

Like  music  in  sweet  verse  that  lasts  for  aye ; 
While  yet  we  wandered  by  our  native  shore, 
He  sent  the  blessings  for  which  all  men  pray, 

That  cannot  pass  away ; 
He  wrought  with  ministries  of  star  and  flower 
And  the  gray  sea,  to  build  our  lives  secure ; 
He  made  the  sources  of  the  spirit  pure, 

And  with  truth  lent  us  power ; 
And  him  to  me  He  gave  —  and  lo,  his  gift 
Is  changeless,  and  doth  now  my  soul  from  death  uplift. 

XLII 

On  deepest  night  arisen,  the  morning  star 
Trembles  across  the  wide,  unquiet  sea, 

And  heavenward  springs,  with  influence  felt  afar  — 
The  world's  new  hope  he  leads,  the  day  to  be, 
The  life  that  waits  for  me  ; 

Speed  on,  glad  star,  and  golden  be  thy  flight, 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    221 

Inviolable,  serene,  the  waters  o'er  ! 

Fear  not  the  eclipsing  west,  O  born  to  soar, 

And,  dying,  die  in  light ! 

Bring,  bring  the  morning  with  her  tides  of  song, 
Her  floods  of  amber  air,  breaking  earth's  heights  along. 

XLIII 

Beauty  abides,  nor  suffers  mortal  change, 
Eternal  refuge  of  the  orphaned  mind ; 
Where'er  a  lonely  wanderer,  I  range, 

The  tender  flowers  shall  my  woes  unbind, 

The  grass  to  me  be  kind ; 
And  lovely  shapes  innumerable  shall  throng 
On  sea  and  prairie,  soft  as  children's  eyes ; 
Morn  shall  awake  me  with  her  glad  surprise ; 

The  stars  shall  hear  my  song; 
And  heaven  shall  I  see,  whate'er  my  road, 
Steadfast,  eternal,  light's  impregnable  abode. 

XLIV 

Love,  too,  abides,  and  smiles  at  savage  death, 

And  swifter  speeds  his  might  and  shall  endure ; 
The  secret  flame,  the  unimagined  breath, 


222    THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH 

That  lives  in  all  things  beautiful  and  pure, 

Invincibly  secure ; 

In  Him  creation  hath  its  glorious  birth, 
Subsists,  rejoices,  moves  prophetic  on, 
Till  that  dim  goal  of  all  things  shall  be  won 

Men  yearn  for  through  the  earth ; 
Voices  that  pass  we  are  of  Him,  the  Song, 
Whose  harmonies  the  winds,  the  stars,  the  seas,  prolong. 

XLV 
Break,  surging  sea,  about  the  lovely  shore  ! 

O  dimly  heaving  plains,  through  darkness  sweep  ! 
Thy  restless  waves,  with  morning  stars  roofed  o'er, 
Their  incommunicable  secret  keep, 

Impenetrable  deep  ! 
The  eldest  years  on  time's  oblivious  verge 

Saw  thee  through  tempest-weltering  night  uplift 
Great,  mountainous  continents  amid  thy  drift, 

And  their  tall  peaks  submerge ; 
The  vast,  abysmal,  wandering  fields  moved  on, 
Whelming  the  wasteful  wreck  of  the  old  world  undone. 

XLVI 

And  still  round  mortal  shores  thy  billows  roll, 
And  shall  through  long,  long  ages  yet  unborn ; 


THE  NORTH  SHORE  WATCH    223 

Lone  splendor  of  the  sense-illumined  soul, 
Eternal  moaning  of  the  spirit  lorn, 

By  strokes  of  loss  outworn ; 
Thy  terrors  image  our  blind  mortal  state, 

Dark  with  impending  doom  and  whirling  woe, 
And  monsters  in  thy  bosom  come  and  go, 

And  death  is  thy  fell  mate ; 
Ah  yet,  through  sun  and  storm,  gray  ocean,  roll, 
Love  clasps  thy  mighty  tides  in  his  profound  control. 

XLVII 

Surge  on,  thy  melancholy  is  not  doom  ! 

Surge,  O  wan  sea,  into  the  golden  day  ! 
The  morn  is  breathing  off  thy  purple  gloom, 
The  isles  lift  up  their  promise,  dim  and  gray, 

Love  holds  his  dauntless  sway  ! 
Thy  ripples  kiss  the  shore  with  lips  of  foam, 

Thy  waves  are  dawning  soft  —  the  winds  blow  free  ! 
Keep  thou  the  eternal  watch,  O  dear,  dear  sea, 

Those  far  lands  I  must  roam  ! 
Lo,  'tis  the  sunrise  —  and  the  sphered  stars  move, 
Singing  unseen,  like  silent  thoughts  through  silent  love. 


AGATHON 


THE   ARGUMENT 

The  following  dramatic  poem  takes  its  origin  in  that  mood  of  a 
young  and  sensitive  temperament  in  which  the  transience  of  life  is 
first  perceived,  and  is  most  deeply  felt  in  the  passing  away  of  beauty; 
to  remain  in  this  mood  were  to  despair.  But  the  desire  which  in 
early  youth  is  fed  by  mortal  loveliness  has  an  eternal  object,  to  the 
perception  of  which  the  soul  must  win,  binding  round  about  it  new  and 
diviner  affections.  Agathon,  the  poet  of  Plato's  Symposium,  typifies 
such  youth;  and  the  poem  here  discloses  his  passage  to  the  higher 
conception  by  means  of  the  Platonic  thought  and  imagery.  Diotima, 
the  wise  preceptress  of  Socrates,  instructs  him;  Eros,  the  desire  of 
beauty,  is  his  companion  and  guide;  the  youth,  under  the  spell  of 
Anteros  (whose  character  is  taken  from  the  later  phases  of  the  Greek 
myth)  encounters  love  in  its  transient  mortal  form  —  Venus  Pande- 
mos  —  but  his  noble  nature  perceives  therein  the  essence  and  con 
centration  of  that  death  which  has  daunted  him  in  the  world;  and 
although  he  feels  the  impairment  of  his  purity  by  the  fact  of  his 
temptation,  he  is  led  by  Eros  to  the  presence  of  the  Uranian  Venus, 
who  sets  forth  to  him  (as  Diotima  had  also  done  in  a  prophetic 
manner)  the  eternal  element  in  which  life  itself  has  its  ground  of 
being.  The  obligations  of  the  poem  to  Plato  are  plain;  and  for 
those  who  are  familiarized  with  Platonic  ways  of  thought  and  the 
ordinary  conceptions  of  philosophic  idealism,  the  poem,  perhaps, 
notwithstanding  its  artistic  faults,  has  no  more  obscurity  than  by 
necessity  belongs  to  its  matter.  The  passage  of  the  soul  through 
love  of  the  beauty  that  is  seen  to  love  of  the  beauty  that  is  unseen, 
whereby  it  escapes  from  the  dominion  of  time  and  death  in  the 
senses,  is  the  theme. 


THE  CHARACTERS 

EROS,  the  god  of  Desire 

DIOTIMA,  the  prophetess  of  Mantineia 

AGATHON,  the  poet 

PHANTASM 

URANIA,  unseen 


SCENE   I 

Before  DIOTIMA'S  cave.    EROS  enters 
EROS 

BETWEEN  the  gods  who  live  and  mortal  men 
I  am  the  Intercessor,  Eros  called, 
Fathered  in  heaven,  but  earth  did  mother  me  ; 
Whence  is  my  nature  mixed  of  opposites, 
Unquenchable  desire,  want  absolute, 
And  is  near  neighbor  unto  human  fate. 
The  edict  of  Necessity  besides 
Bids  own  that  kinship ;  for  I  come  not  home 
Except  my  errand  done,  which  ever  is 
To  break  the  mystery  of  love  to  men, 
Freeing  themselves  and  me  ;  not  without  me 
Find  they  the  Immortals  ;  without  them  my  wings 
Blade  not,  nor  from  the  gleaming  shoulder  break, 
But  by  the  warmth  of  love  those  plumes  unsheathe  • 
Wherefore  I  ever  speed  to  win  men's  hearts. 
229 


230  AGATHON 

I  bear  the  gifts  of  all  the  gods  to  men ; 

The  bright  Promethean  fire  burns  from  my  hand, 

And  from  it  falls  Demeter's  holy  corn ; 

Poseidon's  horse,  Athene's  olive  tree, 

The  plough,  the  ship,  the  sceptre,  and  the  lyre 

I  grant,  and  only  from  my  favor  lives 

All  art  and  use  and  ornament  of  life ; 

And  whom  I  meet,  with  whatsoever  gift 

He  wills  in  his  desire  I  charge  his  heart. 

The  most,  low-eyed  and  basely  covetous, 

Scramble  in  shameful  packs  for  Plutus'  hoard, 

To  gild  their  bosoms  with  a  little  gold, 

But  leave  unfurnished  all  that  lies  within ; 

And  those  who  flaunt  them  in  a  purple  cloak, 

And  on  bright  honor  fasten  greedy  eyes, 

Are  like  unmindful  what  they  most  should  mind. 

The  king  who  wolfs  it  in  the  precious  flock 

Forgets  the  heavenly  leasing  of  his  throne ; 

The  warrior  flaming  in  his  woundless  arms 

Forgets  their  forging  in  the  fiery  mount ; 

The  victor  whose  green  leaves  o'erprize  his  brows 

Forgets  the  sacred  tree  they  budded  on  ; 

Oblivious,  the  crammed  steward,  of  his  lord  ; 

The  artist,  of  the  beam  whence  Iris  glows  ; 


AGATHON  231 

The  sculptor,  of  the  form  within  the  stone ; 

The  poet,  of  the  very  breath  he  draws ; 

Users  of  heavenly  trust,  unmindful  all. 

They  waste  my  gifts ;  I  gave  them  not  from  earth 

To  nourish  life  alone,  but  from  the  gods 

Who  fashioned  them  to  foster  the  young  soul 

In  reverence,  gratitude,  and  humbleness. 

Yet  some,  whose  eyes  were  more  divinely  touched 

In  that  long-memoried  world  whence  souls  set  forth, 

Discern  the  holy  meaning  of  the  gift, 

Which  who  receives  aright  receives  the  god. 

The  rest  esteem  it  as  a  thing  their  own 

And  common,  and  neglect  to  know  the  gods ; 

And  me,  their  messenger,  they  thrust  without ; 

And  here  I  wander  in  the  ways  of  men, 

Hungry  and  poor,  and  begging  for  my  bread ; 

And  oft  my  feet  print  blood  what  time  I  leave 

Inhospitable,  hard,  and  kindless  doors. 

But  where  some  noble  soul  makes  his  abode, 

And  bids  me  enter  in  and  lodge  with  him, 

Beautiful  am  I  as  the  gods  in  heaven ; 

His  thatch,  though  lowly,  unto  them  is  known, 

The  rushes  of  his  floor  are  loved  of  men, 

And  who  live  there  behold  me  as  I  am. 


232  AGATHON 

One  such  I  seek  for  now,  the  flower  of  Greece, 
Young  Agathon  ;  to  men  hereafter  known 
(If  I  but  thrive  as  I  have  hope  to  do) 
More  than  her  athlete's  olive-cinctured  brows, 
Wrestler,  or  runner,  or  swift  charioteer, 
His  cherished  name  endears  her  memory. 
A  spirit  of  joy  he  is,  to  beauty  vowed, 
Made  to  be  loved,  and  every  sluggish  sense 
In  him  is  amorous  and  passionate. 
Whence  danger  is ;  therefore  I  seek  him  out, 
So  with  pure  thought  and  awe  of  things  divine 
To  touch  his  soul  that  he  partake  the  gods. 
Now  here  he  comes  with  that  wise  prophetess 
Who  reared  his  youthful  wisdom  ;  I,  awhile, 
Will  stand  and  mark  them  ;  sweet  is  their  discourse. 

[EROS  retires. 

DIOTIMA  and  AGATHON  enter,  and  seat  themselves  near 
the  cave 

DIOTIMA 

What  robs  thee,  Agathon,  of  thy  delight, 
That  thou  art  fallen  in  grave  and  silent  ways, 
Nor  longer  wilt  divide  thy  breast  with  me  ? 


AGATHON  233 

AGATHON 

I  would  obey  the  gods,  but  see  not  how. 
DIOTIMA 

Hast  thou  forgotten  ?     But  youth  ever  fears, 
And,  like  the  fledgling  on  the  low  nest's  edge, 
Thinks  not  how  instant  heaven  receives  its  wings 
And  bears  them  up  unseen.     The  reed  once  knew 
Thy  boyish  warble ;  long  the  lyre  expects 
When  thou  shalt  touch  Apollo's  waiting  strings, 
Thy  name  be  golden  on  the  lips  of  men. 
Not  idly  do  the  gods  bestow  their  gifts. 

AGATHON 

Long  silent  hangs  the  lyre,  silent  my  heart. 

I  cannot  sing ;  I  am  too  much  betrayed 

By  this  too  fickle  world  that  robbeth  me. 

Beauty  herself  hath  fed  me  on  despair ; 

And  the  deep  change  which  doth  infect  all  things 

Lessons  the  soul  in  death,  by  beauty  taught 

More  than  by  gross  decay.     Change,  change  is  here  ! 

Still  seems  the  region  as  the  land  I  loved  — 

Seems,  but  is  not ;  something  hath  fallen  between, 

Strangeness  and  severance  that  the  exile  feels 


234  AGATHON 

Returning  to  his  haunts  from  roving  years ; 
No  stay  for  him  is  there ;  he  turns  and  goes ; 
For  he  has  robbed  his  father's  quiet  fields 
Of  Nature's  sweet  horizons ;  nevermore 
The  sky  shall  rest  upon  the  hills  for  him  ; 
His  bounds  are  of  the  soul ;  his  rims  of  heaven 
The  visions  which  his  wayward  eyes  have  caught ; 
And  what  that  gleam  hath  whispered  to  his  heart 
He  cannot  all  forget.     This  have  I  learned 
From  the  revolving  hours,  and  fear  it  much, 
And  hide  it  in  my  breast,  as  wise  men  do, 
Lest  truth  should  prove  contagion  to  the  world. 
Woe  be  to  us,  to  us  alone  the  woe  ! 
The  solitude  in  loveliest  places  felt, 
The  heart  estranged  from  earth,  but  undivine, 
The  soul  aware  of  that  which  heaven  withholds  — 
Poets  whose  eyes  the  goddess  lights  and  blinds, 
To  be  than  mortals  more,  but  less  than  gods  ! 

DIOTIMA 
Hath  beauty  so  bereaved  thee,  nor  love  crowned? 

AGATHON 

Thou  knowest  it,  because  thou  smilest  so ; 
Yet  pity  in  that  smile  confession  makes 


AGATHON  235 

Of  thoughts  not  unacquainted  with  my  own. 

I  do  remember  'twas  on  such  a  night 

As  spreads  this  silver  silence  on  the  earth 

On  the  sea-cape  I  watched  the  brooding  wave ; 

Only  the  moon  my  meditation  shared, 

Nor  any  sound  save  of  the  voiceful  deep 

Among  the  white  crags  of  my  solitude  ; 

I  saw  its  loveliness,  and  sighed  to  see ; 

And  stretching  out  my  palms  to  the  bright  air, 

"Wherefore  art  thou  so  beautiful,  my  life  ?" 

I  cried ;  and  knew  in  heaven  a  subtle  change, 

Celestial  fading,  and  the  pale  approach 

Of  morning  in  the  east ;  and  all  my  thoughts 

Fled  thence,  as  from  the  gray  dawn  fled  the  stars. 

The  time  was  disenchanted,  not  my  soul ; 

And  oft  on  some  clear  height,  some  curving  shore, 

From  beauty's  momentary  trance  I  woke 

As  from  another  world  ;  flown  was  the  light 

That  wooed  me  to  such  sweet  oblivion, 

But  not  from  memory  flown ;  still  must  I  mourn 

That  every  lovely  thing  escapes  the  heart 

Even  in  the  moment  of  its  cherishing. 

O  young  regret  that  still  will  turn  desire  ! 

For  Nature  wounds  and  orphans  while  she  charms 


236  AGATHON 

Her  dearest  lover  ;  no  perfection  hers, 

And  no  continuance  ;  change,  forever  change  ! 

Stars  shine  where  morning  was,  morn  dims  the  stars  j 

Spring  follows  spring,  and  all  our  autumns  roll 

Morrow  on  morrow  mourning  yesterday ; 

So  mutable  is  this  dissolving  sphere ; 

Aloft  and  under  —  change,  forever  change  ! 

And  we  like  sailors  on  the  inconstant  deep  — 

The  moon- driven  rack,  the  rout  of  wind-swept  waves, 

Are  earth  and  heaven ;  the  whole  world  slips  below. 

DIOTIMA 

Truth  is  not  given  as  pearls,  my  Agathon. 
There  is  a  light  within,  and  that  must  shine 
Before  the  soul  can  see ;  o'er  Nature's  world, 
The  flux  and  all  the  ruin  of  her  sway, 
Is  the  eternal ;  there  the  gods  abide. 

AGATHON 

The  gods  are  hard  to  seek,  but  sure  they  are. 
I  have  not  yet  my  boyhood  so  unlearned 
But  with  my  soul  I  keep  some  privacy ; 
Such  as  each  spirit  owns  what  time  it  wakes 
And  broods  and  ponders  on  what  things  must  be 


AGATHON  237 

To  match  its  nature  ;  then  what  thoughts  were  mine  ! 

Desire  and  dream  were  undissevered  then  ! 

I  rode  the  dark-ribbed  waves,  Poseidon's  son ; 

The  ample  ether  kissed  me,  sprung  from  Zeus ; 

Apollo  wrapt  me  in  his  golden  beams 

Like  some  proud  elder  brother ;  as  a  star 

Upon  the  unregarded  edge  of  heaven 

Knows  not  his  brethren  of  the  crowded  host, 

Before  their  beauty  timorous,  yet  feels 

His  isolate  nature  one  with  theirs  divine, 

So  my  young  spirit  felt  beyond  the  sense 

Something  at  one  with  it  that  made  the  world 

Its  shining  element  —  O,  wherefore  bright 

Unless  the  gods,  making  such  glad  proclaim, 

Would  break  their  secrecy  through  Nature's  tongues, 

And  unprofaned  do  borrow  of  the  soul 

Some  sweet  forewarnings  ?  —  upon  this  I  mused, 

When  morning  flashed  on  great  Athene's  spear, 

Pacing  within  her  temple.     On  one  hand 

The  violet  landscape  through  the  columns  glowed  — 

^Egina  and  the  olive-coasted  gulf 

Empurpling  to  the  far  Corinthian  gleam ; 

Ilissus  reed-beloved ;  Hymettus  flowering ; 

On  white  Pentelicus  the  cloud-hung  pines  ! 


238  AGATHON 

At  every  step  more  fair  with  lovelier  change 

The  scene  passed  by,  in  those  white  columns  framed, 

Porches  of  heaven  ;  upon  the  other  side 

Was  I  o'ershadowed  by  the  eternal  frieze, 

That  only  seemed  to  move,  but  ever  stayed, 

Horsemen  and  maidens  in  the  marble  march, 

Athene's  people,  bearing  evermore 

Praise  to  Athene ;  beautiful  they  stood 

Before  her  coming,  mixed  with  forms  divine  — 

Men  worthy  to  be  gods,  gods  to  be  men ; 

And  waking  from  my  trance,  I  saw  them  shine, 

Nor  knew  the  change  from  the  eternal  world. 

DIOTIMA 

Tis  the  god's  doing  :  O,  follow,  follow  there  ! 

Create  what  thou  desirest,  Agathon. 

Cling  not  to  Nature  ;  of  eternity 

Some  glimpses  live  that  counsel  the  divine 

In  the  brief  shadows  of  this  mortal  being. 

The  light  that  fills  the  temple  thence  proceeds ; 

And  all  the  Phidian  art  and  mastery 

Is  but  the  spirit  bringing  like  the  gods 

The  light  it  shines  by ;  only  it  creates 

And  truly  fashions  ;  Nature's  works  decay ; 


AGATHON 


239 


It  hath  a  higher  and  immortal  craft ; 

It  is  the  parent  of  eternal  form. 

Not  in  the  sphere  the  song  that  moves  it  sings, 

But  in  the  soul ;  'tis  Nature's  element, 

Her  shaping  principle,  her  other  frame, 

Locking  old  Chaos  in  the  rhyme  of  law ; 

Its  influence  exceeds  this  sensual  reach ; 

It  doth  invest  the  very  gods  with  charm ; 

Such  deity  resides  within  the  soul. 

O,  wert  thou  Orpheus,  or  the  shepherd  boy 

Apollo  loved  amid  his  Thracian  flocks, 

Thy  lyre  must  from  thyself  bring  harmony, 

Whose  unlocked  music  builds  the  world  divine. 

AGATHON 
One  must  be  born  again  to  breathe  that  world. 

DIOTIMA 

Not  once,  but  many  times  the  soul  is  born 
Before  the  mortal  body  wastes  away 
That  it  inhabits ;  it  is  born  in  sense, 
And  like  a  thing  of  Nature  in  what  is 
Lives  momentary ;  born  in  memory  next, 
In  time's  dark  shadow  and  eclipse  it  builds 


24o  AGATHON 

The  insubstantial  world  where  Nature  hath 

Her  only  immortality ;  nor  long 

Consents  to  tarry  with  that  second  death, 

And  to  eternize  loss ;  but,  risen  aloft, 

Is  in  imagination  born,  whose  throe 

Is  Nature's  dissolution.     Nature  dies 

In  uttering  the  ideal ;  earth  below 

Is  stubble,  stars  the  refuse  of  the  thought, 

That  works  in  time  and  death,  denying  both 

And  all  the  world  of  change,  and  winnows  thence 

The  inviolable  and  perfect  element, 

And  sees  the  gods  afar.     But  more  remains, 

This  but  the  darkness  dreaming  in  the  mind 

And  increate  creation  ;  for  the  soul 

Works  not  its  dream ;  yet  through  belief  it  may 

If  it  believe  ;  such  premonition  hath 

The  quick  eternal  nature  in  it  lodged  — 

Immortal  travail,  thoughts  that  at  their  birth 

Have  touches  of  necessity,  and  shape 

Themselves  the  life  to  come ;  in  faith  'tis  born ; 

In  what  shall  be  it  breathes,  till  that  last  change 

When  it  shall  lay  its  mortal  nature  off, 

In  what  eternal  is,  eternal  live. 


AGATHON  241 

AGATHON 

O,  eloquent  and  noble  as  desire 
Thy  doctrine  is,  charming  as  melody  j 
Beyond  the  reach  of  thought  we  follow  it  — 
Whither,  oh,  whither? 

DIOTIMA 

Here  repose  thyself 

Upon  the  flinty  rock,  the  dreamer's  couch ; 
For  oft  in  dreams  the  gods  do  visit  us  — 
Or  what  seem  dreams  —  and  then  we  wake  and  find 
Only  the  ideal  has  reality. 

[DIOTIMA  enters  the  cave,  AGATHON  sleeps. 

EROS  comes  forward  singing.     AGATHON  wakes 

When  love  in  the  faint  heart  trembles, 

And  the  eyes  with  tears  are  wet, 
O,  tell  me  what  resembles 

Thee,  young  Regret? 
Violets  with  dewdrops  drooping, 

Lilies  o'erfull  of  gold, 
Roses  in  June  rains  stooping, 

That  weep  for  the  cold, 

Are  like  thee,  young  Regret. 


242  AGATHON 

Bloom,  violets,  lilies,  and  roses  ! 

But  what,  young  Desire, 
Like  thee,  when  love  discloses 

Thy  heart  of  fire? 
The  wild  swan  unreturning, 

The  eagle  alone  with  the  sun, 
The  long-winged  storm-gulls  burning 

Seaward  when  day  is  done, 

Are  like  thee,  young  Desire. 

AGATHON 

Who  art  thou  that  dost  echo  on  thy  lips 

The  unspoken  heart  that  pains  with  silent  throb 

And  thoughts  ineffable  the  aching  side  ? 

EROS 

A  wanderer  who  sings  from  land  to  land ; 
A  single  night  he  lodges  where  he  sings, 
And  goes  ere  morning.     Subtle  is  the  song 
And  sweet ;  which,  if  thy  heart  shall  entertain, 
'Tis  destiny,  eternal  joy  or  woe. 

AGATHON 

There  is  a  princely  pleading  in  thy  looks, 
Yet  doth  this  fair-demeanored  courtesy 


AGATHON  243 

Show  with  a  borrowed  favor,  as  if  a  god, 

With  lowly  bending  of  his  attributes 

And  gentle  usage  of  humility, 

Should  be  a  suppliant.     So  Apollo  once 

Among  the  herdsmen  came,  but  godlike  sang. 

EROS 
A  god  I  am,  though  mortal  now  I  seem. 

AGATHON 

I  have  heard  tales  of  gods  who  mixed  with  men 

When  men  were  heroes  and  divinely  sprung ; 

But  whether  by  compulsion  of  strict  fate 

Or  by  corruption  of  our  long  descent, 

The  way  is  lost,  and  scarce  may  Hermes'  self 

Retrace  his  golden  sandals'  gleaming  track 

To  guide  us  hence,  whence  all  the  gods  are  gone. 

EROS 

Not  gone  from  thee  or  any  mortal  man 

Who  trusts  them,  though  of  pride-emboldened  eyes 

They  suffer  not  the  near  and  curious  gaze ; 

But  whom  they  love  they  leave  not  uninspired. 

I  am  their  messenger,  and  joy  I  bring. 


244  AGATHON 

Long  have  I  sought,  and  loved  thee  ere  I  saw ; 
Now  take  my  heart  of  longing  to  thy  breast ; 
Suffer  my  leading  :  I  alone  lead  true, 
And  strip  the  ambush  on  the  paths  of  peril, 
And  hedge  the  flowery  way  with  innocence. 
Eros  I  am,  the  wooer  of  men's  hearts. 
Unclasp  thy  lips,  yield  me  thy  close  embrace ; 
So  shall  thy  thoughts  once  more  to  heaven  climb, 
Their  music  linger  here,  the  joy  of  men. 

AGATHON 

Take  my  poor  friending,  such  as  man  may  give 
Whose  only  having  is  a  human  heart ; 
This  be  thy  pillow  and  thy  breast  my  guard, 
Both  loyal  lovers  till  the  world  shall  end  ! 
For  thou  dost  seem  all  mortal,  and  dost  crave 
An  equal  bond  ;  and  far  that  journey  lies 
(So  strong  is  prescience  here),  and  long,  alas, 
Hath  that  young  trust  that  was  about  my  heart 
Flown  forth,  the  bird  of  roaming,  through  the  world 
Oft  lost  in  heaven,  oft  fluttering  back  to  earth, 
Builds  in  the  morn  and  nests  in  darkening  waves, 
The  tired  wing  not  vain,  nor  vain  the  song. 
And  now  my  soul  must  follow  after  it, 


AGATHON  245 

Going  with  thee  ;  with  thee  needs  must  I  go  ; 
For  had  one  planet  launched  our  lives  at  birth, 
And  had  one  sun  harnessed  our  golden  days, 
And  one  dear  memory  shrined  our  jewels  up, 
Thou  couldst  not  more  prevail.     O,  thou  hast  ta'en 
My  heart  into  thy  breast ;  my  faith  lies  there, 
And  I  must  follow  ! 

Thy  kisses  make  me  faint, 
And,  tremulously  sweet,  ambrosial  flame 
Steals  in  my  blood,  with  heavenly  vigor  bright. 
Upon  what  stream  shall  this  high  passion  slake  ? 
Not  sun-kissed  wine  that  bursts  the  blooded  grape, 
Cold  Castaly,  nor  any  nectared  draught 
That  whispers  Hebe's  secret,  shall  dull  this  pain, 
Nor  any  dark-leaved  herb  of  melancholy 
Lull  it  to  sleep. 

EROS 

There  is  a  fount  more  clear 
Than  gave  Narcissus  to  himself,  more  pure 
Than  on  Tiresias  flashed  Athene's  form, 
And  softer  to  the  touch  than  Venus'  bath. 
If  thou  canst  win  unto  that  crystal  brook, 
And  if  but  once  thy  lips  kiss  that  bright  flow, 


246  AGATHON 

Was  never  Beauty's  paragon  more  blessed, 
Nor  Wisdom's  lover  so  by  her  desired, 
Nor  darling  Adon  to  the  goddess  dear. 
While  this  sweet  passion  sorrows  in  thy  breast 
Unto  that  heavenly  fount  thou'rt  each  day  nigh ; 
There  shalt  thou  learn  the  mystery  of  thyself, 
How  thou  art  mortal  to  become  a  god. 
But  now  the  night  wears  on,  and  long  the  way. 

AGATHON 
How  short  a  time  thou  givest  to  my  love  ! 

EROS 

Nor  long,  nor  short ;  but  when  I  go  from  thee 
The  interval  is  all ;  against  that  hour 
Whisper  thy  heart  into  my  breast  to-night, 
And  I  in  turn  will  treasure  mine  in  thee. 

\_They  enter  the  cave  together. 


AGATHON  247 


SCENE  II 
DIOTIMA'S  cave  within.    AGATHON  and  EROS  enter 

AGATHON 

How  hast  thou  stolen  within  my  heart !  even  there, 

Sweet  fabler,  fable  on,  with  myth  and  tale 

That  thronged  before  the  eyes  of  poets  gone  ! 

O,  only  once  to  breathe  young  Attic  air, 

Cithaeron  rove,  or  Ida's  slumber  know, 

A  guiltless  Paris  by  ^Enone's  side  ! 

Dream  thou,  my  heart !  for  Love  so  made  our  frame 

And  shut  his  empire  in  a  maid's  white  arms, 

And  in  a  woman's  kiss  his  sovereignty. 

For  this  Poseidon  hath  his  trident  bowed ; 

For  this  great  Zeus  let  the  leashed  thunder  sleep 

And  the  bird  drowse  beside  the  empty  throne ; 

For  this  did  Enna  blossom,  and  with  strewn  spring 

Love's  footprints  bud  in  hell ;  even  but  for  this 

Did  Dian's  self  lay  her  white  bow  aside 

And  hush  a  thousand  hymns  of  sanctity  ! 


248  AGATHON 

Love  comes  in  youth,  and  in  the  wakeful  heart 
Delight  begins,  soft  as  Aurora's  breath 
Fretting  the  silver  waves,  and  dimly  sweet 
As  stir  of  birds  in  branches  of  the  dawn. 
So  soft,  so  sweet,  thy  touches  round  my  heart. 
O,  fable,  fable  on  ! 

EROS 

I  fable  not, 

But  as  the  sense  is  fashioned  sees  the  mind, 
And  as  the  tongue  is  languaged  hears  the  ear, 
And  as  the  heart  is  chambered  lives  the  soul ; 
Illusion  binds  us  !  {The  scene  darkens. 

Alas,  he  hears  me  not, 
And  by  the  darkening  of  the  way  I  know 
Anteros,  him,  my  brother,  born  with  me, 
Who  will  contest  for  this  most  noble  prize. 
His  bright  enchantment  oft  my  image  steals 
And  silences  my  voice  ;  and  power  is  his  ; 
Whatever  loveliness  doth  dwell  in  sense 
Ministers  to  him,  many  gentle  thoughts, 
Fair  shapes,  forever  beautiful  to  man, 
And  dear  with  tenderness  that  touches  most 


AGATHON  249 

Pure  hearts  and  young.     Look  down,  sweet  heaven,  now, 
And  nearer  bend  thy  light,  and  shine  within  ! 

[The  scene  brightens  disclosing,  as  the  two  advance, 

what  seems  a  lake  under  the  cave's  high-vaulted 

rock. 

AGATHON 

Darkness  itself  doth  change  ;  and  in  my  breast 

Expectancy  doth  like  a  spirit  sit 

And  helms  me  on ;  and  deep  within  my  heart 

Is  such  unrest,  that  sweetens  as  it  grows, 

Excess  makes  nature  faint.     Now  might  I  hear 

The  music  of  the  bright  Sicilian  reef, 

Caught  over  heaving  seas  by  mariners  lost, 

The  sea-child's  harp  of  joy;  or  whatso  else 

Is  storied  in  the  tales  of  mortal  love, 

Of  dragon-damsels  in  the  woodland  met, 

Or  river-maidens  in  their  golden  hair. 

The  dark  way  flames  ;  the  gross  and  threatening  rock 

As  the  fair  element  doth  softly  burn 

With  violet  rays,  whose  stealing  lambency 

Subdues  these  awful  ledges  up  aloft, 

Melting  with  darkness  there  ;  and,  isled  below, 

This  chasm  of  radiance,  this  bloom  of  light, 


250  AGATHON 

This  purple  fragment  of  crag-shadowed  seas 
Where  Naiads  slumber  !     Grottoes  'neath  the  wave, 
Where  the  unbodied  spirit  of  the  air 
Laves  his  blue  lustre  in  the  sunless  stream, 
Dissolve  such  hues ;  such  still  ethereal  tints 
Within  their  sapphire  caves  the  glaciers  hush, 
Light's  mountain  hermitage  ;  and,  soft-embarked, 
What  vision  pulses  on  the  brightening  air  ?  — 

[The  PHANTASM  appears  floating  upon  the  lake. 
How  fair  she  lies  within  the  purple  shell, 
Couched  in  the  halo  of  a  golden  mist 
That  drops  its  pale  light  o'er  her  flowing  limbs  ! 

The  PHANTASM 

'Tis  sweet  to  roam ;  O,  sweet  in  breaking  dawns 
To  speak  with  Light,  the  pilgrim  beautiful ; 
To  hear  and  follow  with  earth's  roaming  soul ! 
The  winged  winds  forsake  their  craggy  nests ; 
The  singing  birds  take  flight  and  glow  in  air ; 
The  pale  mists  slip  their  golden  anchorage ; 
The  white  clouds  lead  them  on ;  for  all  the  gates 
Of  heaven  stand  open.     Who  would  linger  then? 
The  sweetest  roamer  is  a  boy's  young  heart ; 
Sweet  is  his  roaming,  for  his  heart  is  young. 


AGATHON  251 

O  youngest  Roamer,  Hesper  shuts  the  day, 
White  Hesper  folded  in  the  rose  of  eve  ; 
The  still  cloud  floats,  and  kissed  by  twilight  sleeps ; 
The  mists  drop  down,  and  near  the  mountain  moor ; 
And  mute  the  bird's  throat  swells  with  slumber  now ; 
And  now  the  wild  winds  to  their  eyries  cling. 

The  youth  divine,  —  where  now  lays  he  his  head  ? 
The  sea  roves  on,  and  rove  the  awful  stars, 
Unalterable  as  when  the  young  gods  woke 
And  alien  gazed  upon  the  mystery 
That  hopes  not  nor  remembers,  with  strange  eyes ; 
And  he,  too,  gazes,  and  his  heart  still  roves. 

Ah,  dark  he  roams  whom  sea  and  stars  waft  on 
To  voyage  and  venture,  and  to  peril  all, 
Still  wandering  with  the  silver-footed  waves, 
Still  coursing  with  the  globes  of  fiery  flight, 
A  mortal  he,  but  they  eternal  are. 

Now  where  for  him  shall  end  the  darkening  search, 
Whose  feet  are  bound  with  sandals  of  the  dust  ? 
The  waste  desire  be  his,  and  sightless  fate  : 
Him  light  shall  not  revisit  j  late  he  knows 
The  love  that  mates  with  heaven  weds  in  the  grave. 

O  youngest  Roamer,  wonderful  is  joy, 
The  rose  in  bloom  that  out  of  darkness  springs, 


252  AGATHON 

The  lily  folded  to  the  wave  of  life, 
The  lotus  on  the  stream's  dark  passion  borne ; 
Tis  hidden  far  from  dawn,  and  shut  from  eve ; 
The  shore  wave  never  kissed ;  the  starless  bower. 

Ah,  fortunate  he  roams  who  roameth  there, 
Who  finds  the  happy  covert  and  lies  down, 
And  hears  the  laughter  gurgling  in  the  fount, 
And  feels  the  dreamy  light  imbathe  his  limbs. 
No  more  he  roams ;  he  roams  no  more,  no  more. 

AGATHON 

How  sweet  a  freight  of  beauty  lieth  here  ! 

And  like  a  god  I  hover  over  it. 

So  Bacchus  hung  where  Ariadne  lay ; 

So  Ariadne  unto  Bacchus'  arms 

Gave  her  white  breasts  with  upward  streaming  eyes. 

And  me,  though  mortal,  the  swift  flame  devours, 

And  winds  with  sparkles  of  immortal  heat 

In  my  quick  veins,  and  finds  sweet  pasture  there. 

Alas,  her  parted  lips,  how  still  they  smile  ! 

Her  soft,  immobile  face,  her  calling  gaze  ! 

Now  from  me  fall  the  whole  world's  memory, 

And  hang  henceforth,  my  thoughts,  your  starlight  here  ! 

What  art  thou,  —  speak  !  —  like  Aphrodite  lying, 


AGATHON  253 

In  mystery  clad  and  raiment  of  desire? 

Yet  speak  not ;  so  thy  silence  is  more  sweet 

Even  than  thy  song,  I  would  not  have  thee  speak. 

Still  as  the  light  that  streams  from  thee,  gaze  on, 

Sunning  thy  treasures  in  thy  tresses'  gold  ! 

O,  thou  art  lovely,  maiden,  thou  art  fair, 

But  to  be  loved  is  more  than  to  be  fair. 

Lift  up  thy  eyes  to  mine,  look  with  the  soul, 

And  in  light  reach  me  ! 

[  The  PHANTASM  reveals  itself.     AGATHON  starts  back, 

and  the  PHANTASM  changes,  sinking,  as  the  cave 

darkens. 

Tis  not  thee,  not  thee  ! 
It  is  not  thee  I  serve  !     O  thou  one  face 
That  art  the  sweetness  of  my  thousand  dreams, 
Beam  on  me,  and  uncharm  these  hoodless  orbs  ! 
Ah,  base,  base,  base  !     I.  saw  the  nether  fire 
Dilated  glow,  with  expectation  ripe, 
The  brutish  spark  !     O  Eros,  art  thou  gone  ? 
Didst  thou  not  mark  it,  like  a  meteor  globed, 
Glance  down  the  blue  rift  and  low- eddy  ing  gleam 
Deep-whirled  ?     And  in  its  fiery  womb  I  saw 
The  twisted  serpent  ringing  woe  obscene, 
And  far  it  lit  the  pitchy  ways  of  hell ! 


254  AGATHON 

Alas,  that  horror  !     Eros,  Eros,  Eros  — 

I  cannot  find  thee.  [  AGATHON  falls. 


EROS  sings 

In  waste  places  of  the  night 
Joy  once  wandered  out  of  light, 
And  when  he  parted  thence  on  high 
The  Desolation  heard  her  first-born's  cry 
Yet  another  birth  was  nigh, 
Hell-engendered,  lean  and  scant, 
In  the  starved  womb  of  Want. 
Eros,  born  the  elder,  I ; 
Anteros,  he  ;  at  one  same  birth 
Nourished  at  the  breasts  of  Dearth. 
Oft  our  pathways  cross  on  earth, 
Though  we  seek  a  different  goal, 
For  the  way  lies  through  the  soul. 
Oft  he  wrestles,  might  and  main, 
To  break  the  palm-branch  in  my  hand ; 
In  the  torch-race  oft  doth  strain 
To  quench  in  dust  my  burning  brand ; 
But  my  strength  from  heaven  derives, 
Victor  stays,  howe'er  he  strives. 


AGATHON  255 

Another  fortune  with  the  sons  of  men 
His  hazardous  encounter  hath  ; 
Safer  the  Lernaean  den, 
Or  old  Scylla's  toothed  wrath, 
To  wayfarer  or  helmsman  of  the  wave ; 
So  many  thousands  find  in  him  the  grave. 
By  avenues  of  soft  approach, 
And  fair  delights  to  high-placed  fortune  due, 
Upon  prosperity  doth  he  encroach  ; 
Seeming  all  sympathy  and  sorrow  true, 
With  wretchedness  its  fallen  pride  doth  rue, 
And  some  poor  betterment  as  falsely  show ; 
But  all  in  general  wreck  doth  ever  overthrow. 
So  fond  is  man,  though  seeming  wise, 
From  his  own  heart  to  spin  fair  lies, 
And,  by  himself  deluded,  worst  slavery  to  endure ; 
Nor  any  truth  were  now  kept  bright  and  pure, 
Nor  for  a  single  hour 
Were  man  secure 

Against  that  secret,  sullen,  undermining  tide, 
But,  to  my  strength  allied, 
Love  stoops  from  heaven,  clad  in  dismaying  power. 

Foolish  they  are  who  think  him  soft. 
The  Avenger  he  ! 


256  AGATHON 

His  cloudless  throne 

Oft  sends  the  thunder  down 

On  mortals  ;  as  when  Zeus  aloft 

Is  angered  in  his  heart  to  see 

Some  insolent  lord  to  fulness  blown  — 

Instant  of  the  Thunderer  aware, 

Under  his  golden  seat 

The  winged  terror  at  his  feet, 

Eagle  of  god,  sun-nurtured,  fierce  for  prey, 

Flashes  on  the  storming  cloud 

With  beak  thrust  out  and  riding  pinions  loud ; 

Sees,  and  plunges  from  the  air, 

And,  darkening  the  blaze  of  day, 

Swoops  the  offended  law ; 

And  on  the  race  of  men  beholding  falleth  awe. 

Or  like  to  him  heroic  song  once  saw 

Leave  his  bright  station  on  Olympus'  crown, 

To  Ida  coming ;  terrible  the  clang 

Of  the  full  quiver  on  his  armed  shoulders  rang ; 

Terrible  the  bowstring  sang  ; 

Like  night  the  mighty  arrow  sprang ; 

First  on  beasts,  and  then  on  men ; 

Pestilence  did  the  armies  pen ; 

With  funeral  pyres 


AGATHON  257 

The  wide  camp  smokes  and  death-choked  fires. 

Such  things  the  poets  feign 
Of  god-inflicted  pain ; 
But  to  the  inner  eye 
Secret  that  force  and  nigh ; 
In  the  blood  implicate, 
In  nerve  and  bone 

The  burning  serpent,  in  the  heart  a  stone, 
Invisible  fate 

Astonishes,  struck  with  internal  rout, 
The  body's  faculties,  and  puts  them  out; 
Dries  up  the  vital  lamp  ; 
Dissolves  the  mind's  own  harmony ; 
Lets  madness  in,  and  uncontrolled  be ; 
Dismantles  virtue's  hold ; 
Uncasts,  imperial  wreck,  reason's  large  mould ; 
And  in  the  soul 

Unmints  the  image  of  its  heavenly  stamp  ; 
Erases  and  abolishes  the  whole. 
O  ruin  absolute,  and  not  to  be  withstood 
By  the  frail  mortal  brood  ! 

Avenging  Love  !     O,  terrible 
The  brightness  of  thy  burning  stroke 
Illumes  the  darkness  when  the  victim  falls  ! 
s 


258  AGATHON 

One  moment  on  his  eyeballs  broke 

The  whole  eternal  fabric,  heaven  and  hell, 

Thy  glory,  unsearchable, 

And  oft  then  first  descried 

When  to  the  light  he  died  ! 

Yet  not  to  darkness  left, 

And  utterly  bereft, 

If  any  soul  be  capable  of  light  ; 

For  He,  who  framed  man  at  His  will, 

Did  in  the  inward  parts  distil 

Such  sensible,  ethereal  force, 

That  there  immortal  sorrows  course, 

Not  fatal,  but  with  issues  bright  ; 

Woes  of  the  heart  unburdening 

That  fondly  to  this  mould  will  cling ; 

Pangs  of  the  spirit  when  it  dies, 

Yet  strives  on  thoughts  of  heaven  to  rise. 

O  one  true  sacrifice  ! 

Where  never  incense  upward  clomb 

Of  holocaust  or  hecatomb, 

The  lone  heart  shall  His  secrecy  surprise 

Far  in  the  unapparent  skies. 

For  who  hath  once  known  light  within, 
And  entered  on  heaven's  pilgrimage, 


AGATHON  259 

The  under-world,  whence  souls  begin, 
Shall  nevermore  his  steps  engage ; 
Though  oft  he  suffer  pain, 
In  peril  seeming  lost, 
On  darkness  tost, 
He  shall  be  found  again, 
Light  shall  to  him  return. 
So  into  safety  brought, 
And  hardly  taught 

That  souls  most  beautiful  are  framed  most  stern, 
Seeing  the  black  and  Stygian  flood 
Redden,  beneath  Love's  shafts,  in  seas  of  blood, 
And,  livid  with  lightnings  of  his  flame, 
Sink  whence  it  came, 

Leaving  its  wrecks  along  the  mortal  shore, 
With  wiser  praise 
He  shall  the  paean  raise, 

And  Love,  the  Avenger,  sing,  who  saves  him,  evermore. 

[AGATHON  wakes. 

AGATHON 

And  art  thou  here  ?  and  dost  thou  love  me  still, 
As  when  thou  didst  confide  thyself  to  me  ? 
Then  leapt  my  heart  up  at  thy  darling  name, 


260  AGATHON 

That  slipped  on  that  dark  air,  as  slips  a  star  j 
But  whether  more  of  mystery  or  of  light 
It  yields,  beauty  or  sorrow  has,  who  knows  ? 
O,  yet  one  moment  in  the  darkness  here 
Bend  thy  full  soul  on  mine  !     So  lovers'  eyes 
Gaze  on  each  other  lost,  and  suffer  all ! 

EROS 

The  cords  of  birth  do  not  so  strictly  bind, 
The  bonds  of  Nature  are  less  absolute 
Than  our  communion  :  be  not  thou  afraid ; 
I  cannot  leave  thy  side  until  the  soul 
That  passions  in  thee  gives  me  to  my  peace ; 
Only  through  thee  I  come  unto  the  gods. 

AGATHON 

I  know  how  strong  are  forged  love's  bright  links 
Where  virtue  is,  and  truth,  and  innocence ; 
My  heart  has  no  such  metal ;  and  thou,  alas, 
How  near  thy  eyes  see  my  mortality  ! 

EROS 

Be  not  distrustful,  nor  with  shame  o'ercome 
Whom  sin  o'ercame  not ;  in  thy  secrecy, 
All  bare  and  open  to  the  god's  pure  sight, 


AGATHON  261 

And  naked  as  the  desert  to  the  sun 

He  every  part  surveys,  there  truest  known 

Where  light  is  most  •  for  oft  dishonored  here, 

Defeated  and  given  o'er  (since  wisest  men 

Discern  but  little  in  another's  life, 

And  scarce  themselves  dare  judge) ,  the  soul  stands  there 

In  garlanded  and  sweet-hymned  victory, 

Lovely,  and  oft  majestic  after  pain. 

It  is  the  fool  that  judges ;  so  judge  not  thou, 

But  rather  from  the  judgments  of  high  heaven 

Bethink  thee  how  to  pluck  eternal  law. 

Let  not  dejection  on  thy  heart  take  hold 

That  Nature  hath  in  thee  her  sure  effects, 

And  beauty  wakes  desire.     Should  Daphne's  eyes, 

Leucothea's  arms  and  clinging  white  caress, 

The  arch  of  Thetis'  brows,  be  made  in  vain? 

Beauty  is  universal  nature's  lure ; 

The  gods  themselves  from  beauty  seek  increase ; 

The  fiery  soul  is  natured  like  the  gods, 

And  hath  like  motions,  and  therein  is  fixed 

Immortal  generation  :  whence  in  it 

Creative  passion  and  divine  desire 

That  suffer  not  to  mate  with  mortal  things, 

But  beauty  equal  to  eternal  date 


262  AGATHON 

It  seeks,  and  finds  it  in  the  virgin  soul. 
Love  giveth  not  his  flame  to  rosy  cheeks, 
Nor  to  the  oratory  of  bright  eyes 
Yields  his  commission  up,  nor  to  the  lips 
That  breathe  his  vows  renders  his  constancy ; 
But  where  the  spirit  within  doth  live  insphered 
In  noble  thoughts,  fair  actions,  and  kind  words, 
He  is  enthroned,  with  mutual  hearts  conjoined 
In  virtue,  courtesy,  and  married  lives 
That  so  uniting  more  with  heaven  unite. 
He  is  not  fit  to  love  that  knows  not  this. 

AGATHON 

This  was  the  beam  that  chastened  my  young  eyes 
In  early  visitation  found  and  loved, 
And  beauty's  first  surprisal ;  loving  it, 
That  love  in  me  conquered  the  lower  love. 
Yet  something  will  intrude  ;  though  found  at  last, 
That  dear  response  and  union  of  the  soul, 
Though  held  secure  against  time's  disarray, 
(So  clearer  shines  the  eternal  ornament,) 
Death  snatches  all,  and  bears  it  underground, 
Where  weeps  Persephone,  and  at  the  gates 
The  golden  lute  of  Orpheus  shattered  lies. 


AGATHON  263 

EROS 

The  wisest  doctrine  darkens  near  the  grave ; 

On  Nature  and  thy  frame  of  mystery 

Where  truth  works  nearest,  ground  thy  faith  the  same. 

Nature  seeks  only  life ;  where  vigor  is 

Beauty  implants  and  joy,  that  measure  life 

Flowing  and  ebbing ;  thence  her  art  secretes 

The  loaded  seeds  and  vessels  of  her  force 

Ere  falls  the  prime  in  ugliness  and  pain, 

Death  incomplete,  and  ashy  death  at  last ; 

She  with  new  bursts  mocks  mutability, 

And  stays  her  shifting  empire.     In  fair  things 

There  is  another  vigor,  flowing  forth 

From  heavenly  fountains,  the  glad  energy 

That  broke  on  chaos,  and  the  outward  rush 

Of  the  eternal  mind ;  and  as  they  share 

In  this  they  to  the  soul  are  beautiful. 

It  bendeth  not,  nor  lower  will  converse 

Than  with  that  perfect  and  eternal  being 

Which  beauty  portions ;  hence  the  poet's  eye 

That  mortal  sees  creates  immortally 

The  hero  more  than  men,  not  more  than  man, 

The  type  prophetic ;  hence  in  marble  shines 

The  god,  but  never  down  Olympus'  slopes 


264  AGATHON 

Nor  in  Idalian  meadows  stepped  so  proud 

In  grace,  joy,  love,  beauty,  and  majesty. 

Thus  beauty,  as  the  Graces  throwing  gifts 

On  Aphrodite  make  her  visible, 

Endues  immortal  substance  and  unveils 

The  bright  original,  in  all  things  bright, 

But  only  in  the  reason  seen  divine, 

And  there  adored  in  present  deity. 

And  dream  not  this  the  dreaming  of  the  mind. 

The  soul  hath  its  own  order,  and  its  laws, 

Strict  in  its  element  as  Nature's  bond, 

Are  heavenly  regents  of  its  destined  course ; 

They  bend  the  future  to  the  thing  to  be, 

And  in  the  accomplished  hour  disburden  fate. 

Wisdom  is  but  their  foretaste  ;  obeying  them, 

(And  what  is  virtue  but  obeying  them  ?) 

Thou  leaguest  with  heaven's  will,  its  nursling  thou, 

And  of  its  purposes  the  choicest  part ; 

So  shall  thy  soul  be  grappled  round  with  fate, 

And  on  the  centre  stayed  thy  fabric  stand. 

To  trust  thyself  is  half  thy  victory  : 

The  soul  that  doubteth,  it  doth  daily  die, 

Thou  knowest ;  and  clearer  proof  to  thee  I  bring, 

The  light  and  language  in  thyself  o'erheard, 


AGATHON  265 

Showing  the  way  and  passport  to  the  god. 
Thou  knowest  it  the  circle  of  thy  wits  — 
From  beauty  all  things  have  their  origin ; 
In  virtue  permanence ;  consummation  seek 
Only  in  love ;  thy  soul  the  witness  is. 

AGATHON 

Glimpses  at  times  the  heavenly  spark  in  me 
Hath  shed,  nor  now  first  heard  I  know  the  soul. 
But  O,  too  feeble  faith  is,  self-derived, 
Self-seeking,  on  the  little  round  of  self 
Narrowly  based  !  but  rather  unto  Truth, 
As  to  Parnassus'  bare  and  calling  height, 
Should  leap  the  bright  ascent ;  or  as  the  sun, 
His  burning  rays  advancing  gloriously, 
Moves  with  immeasurable  azure  sphered 
And  golden  empire  of  his  unbraved  beam, 
The  soul  should  make  the  heaven  through  which  it  moves 
And  in  its  own  light  chariot  its  course. 
Is  there  no  other  Way? 

EROS 

Another  Way  there  is, 
So  have  I  heard ;  not  yet  the  gates  unlock. 
And  O,  not  thine  the  praise,  dear  Mount  of  Joy, 


266  AGATHON 

That  heard'st  the  world's  first  music  ;  not  by  thee, 
Nor  o'er  thy  married  peaks,  the  Way  to  heaven  ! 
Deep  sinks  the  gulf;  the  rushing  breath  thereof, 
O  Delphian,  had  rent  thy  oracle  ! 
O,  then,  what  mortal  lips  shall  frame  the  word  ? 
Who  dare  the  cleft?     What  god  shall  he  invoke 
Save  the  eternal  will  that  lies  on  him  ? 
He  bears  the  burden  of  man's  broken  hopes ; 
Sorrowing  he  goes  and  treads  the  paths  of  loss ; 
As  far  as  falls  the  gulf  with  whirling  fate 
His  soul  must  follow.     Not  with  him  go  I, 
The  heaven-climber ;  but  one  companions  him, 
O,  how  unlike  to  me,  Divine  Desire, 
Whose  pathway  leaves  eternal  light  behind ; 
To  me,  O,  how  unlike,  Child  of  the  god  ! 
'Tis  Love  himself — so  is  it  noised  above  — 
Shall  wear  mortality  beneath  these  stars, 
And,  journeying,  that  Way  of  Sorrow  show; 
He  smooths  the  dark  descent,  and  goes  before. 
Not  yet  He  comes. 

AGATHON 

A  mystery  thou  speakest 
That  yet  familiar  to  the  heart  of  man 


AGATHON  267 

Seems  truth  most  native  to  his  breast  who  loves 
And  knows  what  Love  is.     I  did  praise  him  once ; 
Called  him  the  youngest  of  the  gods  ;  most  blest ; 
The  tenderest ;  the  nestler  in  soft  hearts ; 
Most  just,  who  neither  does  nor  suffers  wrong ; 
The  bravest,  Ares'  tamer ;  in  temperance  first, 
Who  ruleth  all  desires,  all  passions  quells ; 
The  best  beloved,  darling  of  gods  and  men. 
Before  he  came  in  heaven  were  chains  and  wounds, 
Revolts,  dethronements,  mutilations,  wrecks, 
Old  realms  defrauded  and  the  new  defiled, 
Necessity's  hard  reign ;  but  he  brought  in 
Sweetness  and  peace,  and  in  smooth  order  set 
The  empire  of  the  gods,  and  gave  them  gifts : 
The  throne  to  Zeus  and  to  the  Muses  song ; 
Apollo's  healing  and  divining  art, 
Hephaestus'  forge,  Athene's  loom,  thank  him ; 
Out  of  his  loins  is  every  good  thing  sprung ; 
Inventor  and  inspirer,  wise  in  works ; 
Suggester  of  fair  shapes  ;  persuasion's  lips ; 
The  poet  whose  touch  makes  all  men  poets  be, 
And  hearts  that  had  no  music  breathe  it  forth ; 
And  fame  he  gives,  making  all  art  beloved. 
He  fills  men  with  affection,  voids  their  hate ; 


268  AGATHON 

He  maketh  them  to  meet  at  friendly  feasts, 

At  sacrifice  and  dance,  the  priest,  the  lord ; 

Kindness  supplies,  unkindness  banishes  ; 

Friendship  he  gives,  and  forgives  enmity ; 

Joy  of  the  good  and  wonder  of  the  wise, 

The  gods'  amazement ;  most  desired  by  those 

Who  have  him  not,  and  precious  unto  whom 

He  is  their  better  part ;  softness  and  grace, 

Delicacy,  luxury,  fondness,  and  desire, 

His  children  are ;  he's  careful  of  the  good, 

But  of  the  evil  mindeth  not  at  all ; 

In  every  word  and  deed,  in  hope  and  fear, 

The  pilot,  comrade,  helper,  saviour,  he ; 

The  glory  of  the  gods,  the  praise  of  men, 

The  leader  best  and  brightest !  in  choral  march 

Let  each  man  in  his  footsteps  following  tread, 

And  honoring  him  sing  sweetly  the  sweet  strain 

With  which  Love  charms  the  souls  of  gods  and  men  ! 

EROS 

Fragrant  thy  praise  is  and  immortal-hymned  ; 
This  breath  of  thine,  this  little  golden  breath, 
When  Athens  lies  behind  like  Babylon, 
Shall  be  love's  censer  !     Delphi  shall  be  mute, 


AGATHON  269 

Athene's  wisdom  oracled  in  stone 

Be  shattered  ;  in  another  country  then 

(Though  desert  now  and  roaring  seas  between) 

Thou  shalt  be  loved ;  such  charm  the  Muses  give. 

But  look  lest  thou  their  bright  occasions  lose. 

The  poet's  heart  is  a  wise  counsellor ; 

O  —  for  thou  canst  —  invoke  Urania  now, 

That  she  through  song  may  yield  thee  thy  desire. 

AGATHON  sings 

Muse  of  the  eternal  tune, 

O'erhead  in  Nature's  starry  rune  ; 

Whom  mortals  in  themselves  discern 

By  thoughts  that  from  thy  fingers  burn ; 
And  the  heart  divinely  falls 
To  native  hymns  and  madrigals  ! 

Thou,  the  Wisdom  of  the  sphere, 

Whom  most  by  inward  sight  we  fear, 

Since  souls  o'erwrought  through  thee  may  pierce 

The  violet- girdled  universe; 

And  the  truth  to  us  be  given 
With  the  shining  't  hath  in  heaven  ! 


270  AGATHON 

Sacred  passion  seizes  me 
Through  love  of  the  divinity ; 
Oft  upon  my  eyelids  stream 
Bright  visions  of  thy  borrowed  beam  ; 

Hear,  and  have  me  in  thy  grace ; 

Thee  I  implore  to  see  Love's  face  ! 


URANIA,  unseen 

To  man's  spirit-visioned  eye, 
As  the  robeless  world  doth  lie 
To  the  sun  when  clouds  disperse, 
Unsheltered  lies  the  universe. 
Hoar  Nature's  solitary  heir, 
He  looks  on  earth  and  sea  and  air ; 
Thought's  empire-making  word  he  wills, 
The  great  domain  responsive  thrills ; 
Break  from  the  bases  of  the  earth 
The  fire-scrawled  legends  of  their  birth ; 
Flash  sun  and  planet,  wheel  in  wheel, 
Nor  dare  the  central  poise  conceal ; 
And  dateless  stars  of  Chaldee  stay 
His  subtler  influence  to  obey. 
The  viewless  pulses  of  keen  force 


AGATHON  271 

Traverse  their  ethereal  course ; 
Beneath  his  eye  their  films  withdraw ; 
He  sees  the  essences  of  law. 
What  he  knows  a  fragment  is 
Of  what  destiny  maketh  his ; 
Even  beyond  hope's  climbing  border 
Unknown  worlds  shall  Science  order ; 
Her  dominions  distance  far 
The  lone  ray  of  the  outer  star. 

Yet  to  her  is  set  a  bound, 
Nor  words  divine  by  her  are  found. 
Nature  will  not  cast  for  thee 
The  starry  robe  of  deity. 
Mortal,  rack  her  nerves  no  more, 
Nor  in  her  frame  the  god  explore  ! 
Her  tongues  of  fire  forget  the  word 
In  star-song  nor  in  sea-chime  heard, 
Nor  on  Dodona's  sacred  breeze. 
Go,  sift  with  light  the  Pleiades ; 
And  clothe  anew  the  fossil  bone ; 
Of  force,  resolve  the  monotone  ; 
Weigh,  number,  chart,  infer,  and  sum  — 
Not  from  without  the  god  will  come. 
Never  through  the  senses'  portal 


272  AGATHON 

Gleamed  that  Power,  of  all  the  source, 
The  large-libertied  Immortal 
Who  inhabits  Fate  and  Force. 
Nature  has  no  path  to  him, 
But  rather  shows  man,  dumb  and  dim, 
Back  to  himself  her  mazes  wind 
And  laws  of  things  are  laws  of  mind. 
He  the  conscious  Being  only 
Of  the  world  whereon  he  gazes ; 
He  the  sceptred  sovereign  lonely 
In  whose  state  its  glory  blazes  ! 

Yet,  look  home  :  there  shalt  thou  find, 
Orb  in  orb,  eternal  mind. 
Nought  is  knowledge  but  the  light 
Unsealing  thy  immortal  sight. 
Nought  is  beauty  but  the  eye 
Led  captive  by  divinity. 
For  truth  divine  is  life,  not  lore, 
Creative  truth,  and  evermore 
Fashions  the  object  of  desire 
Through  love  that  breathes  the  spirit's  fire. 
It  loves,  and  loving  grows  more  bright, 
And,  changing  to  its  own  delight, 
Doth  ever  in  itself  express 


AGATHON  273 

And  image  the  god's  loveliness. 
Love  beauty,  and  thy  soul  grows  fair ; 
Love  wisdom,  virtue  harbors  there ; 
Love  love,  the  god  thou  canst  not  miss  — 
Within  thy  heart  his  secret  is. 
The  spark  within,  the  self-fed  flame, 
From  those  twin  hands  of  blessing  came, 
That  cast  the  massy  earth's  blue  round 
And  in  man's  bosom  virtue  found. 
Thy  acre  of  eternal  fate 
Is  broad  enough  to  bear  thy  weight ; 
Take  thou  the  scope  the  god  doth  give, 
And  fear  not  from  the  heart  to  live ! 

Behold  the  sacred  words  I  sing 
Are  but  thy  spirit  laboring  : 
So  near  the  nameless  mystery  lies, 
Revealed,  though  hidden,  to  thy  eyes ; 
The  vision  seen,  its  form  and  light 
Are  only  with  thy  shining  bright ; 
Unveiling  him,  I  unveil  thee, 
And  bare  thy  inmost  privacy. 

[AGATHON,  entranced,  sinks  as  in  sleep. 


274  AGATHON 

EROS  sings 

Tranced  now  his  eyelids  be 
Seals  of  light  and  secrecy ; 
Slumber,  poet,  and  still  keep 
Golden  vigils  in  thy  sleep, 
And,  waking,  bring  the  world  divine 
Through  thy  opening  eyes  to  shine  ! 

Now  I  leave  mortality ; 
This  dear  heart  has  set  me  free, 
Through  the  sacred  passion  burning 
That  denotes  his  home-returning, 
Where  the  gods  in  joy  recline, 
And  the  sphere  is  all  divine. 
Here  I  scatter  ere  I  go 
Thoughts  that  in  white  lilies  blow, 
Hopes  that  in  sweet  violets  breathe, 
Memory,  the  starred  moss  beneath ; 
These  for  Agathon  shall  be 
Wreaths  of  earthly  victory. 
But  to  heaven  I  ascend, 
And  better  there  the  soul  befriend, 
With  the  glad  gods  interceding, 
Till  again  my  pinions  greet 
The  young  hearts  that  love  my  leading, 


AGATHON  275 

Dear  as  Hermes'  ivory  feet 
Down  the  purple  ether  steering, 
To  the  souls  in  prison  nearing, 
With  the  holy  meadow's  bloom ; 
I  shall  touch  them  in  the  gloom, 
And,  starlike,  from  my  bending  eyes, 
The  sweet  beam  of  divine  surprise 
Shall  in  a  moment  teach  them  more 
Than  all  the  worlds  of  light  before. 


276  AGATHON 


SCENE   III 

DIOTIMA'S  cave;  dawn  without. 
AGATHON  wakes.     DIOTIMA  beside  him 

DIOTIMA 
Canst  thou  interpret  this? 

AGATHON 

O  prophetess, 

Thou  knowest ;  this  rock  was  riven  in  twain, 
And  over  me  the  glistening  purple  deep, 
Sparkling  with  starry  hosts,  began  to  pale 
With  morning,  and  the  sleeping  vales  beneath 
Broke  into  thousand  shadows,  violet-winged, 
That  in  their  motions  died,  and  gleaming  hills 
Unbosomed  their  fair  slopes  unto  the  east 
That  molten  burned ;  then  from  that  cloudless  throne 
Light  issued  like  a  pillar  of  burning  gold 
Sea-based  ;  and  Phosphor  in  the  rosy  flush 
Folded  the  stars  upon  the  hills  of  dawn. 


AGATHON  277 

New  earth,  new  heavens  !     Never  land  I  saw 
That  promised  roving  in  such  pastures  sweet 
Since  through  the  woods  that  front  the  sacred  dawn 
I  came,  and  music  in  my  heart  was  born, 
And  at  my  feet  broke  the  deep  sea  of  song. 
And  One  whose  presence  left  the  orient  bare, 
Came  ;  of  the  image  that  my  soul  had  stamped 
This  was  the  living  and  god-motioned  form. 

0  mortal  speech,  how  truth  disdaineth  thee, 
The  dark  confuser  !     Beautiful  he  stood  — 
The  feet  that  never  wandered  from  the  god, 
The  eyes  that  yet  remembered  heavenly  light ; 
His  form  advanced  still  sang  his  joyful  speed ; 
And  in  his  hand  I  marked  a  laurel  branch. 

1  was  o'erawed,  and  darkly  in  that  morn 
I  felt  the  nearer  hovering  of  his  plumes; 
He  struck  me  with  the  laurel,  face  and  lips, 
And  low  upon  my  spirit  borne  I  heard  — 
Not  silence,  nor  in  words  of  mortal  speech  — 
"  I  am  the  angel  of  the  god  thou  wouldest ; 
Love  am  I  called,  one  name  in  heaven  and  earth ; 
And  thee  through  me  He  chooses  :  lift  up  thy  heart 
High  as  His  will  whose  hope  abides  in  thee ; 
Know  thou  His  mercy  justifies  His  choice." 


278  AGATHON 

And  sleep  a  thousandfold  had  sealed  my  eyes. 
Yet  feel  I  on  my  cheeks  the  laurel  burn. 

DIOTIMA 
The  gods  have  been  with  thee  :  obey  the  gods  !, 


\  c '*  ''  '  *  "'    / 

"^'^.S 


Heart  of  Man 


BY 


GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY 
i2mo      Cloth      $1.50 


New  York  Times: 

"As  it  cannot  but  charm  by  the  beauty  of  its  language,  so, 
too,  by  the  acuteness  of  its  thought,  and  its  high  expression  of 
faith  in  our  common  human  nature  in  the  heart  of  man,  it  con 
tains  an  inspiring  lesson." 

New  York  Commercial  Advertiser: 

"  It  is  fitting  that  by  Wordsworth  the  teacher,  the  thinker, 
and  the  poet,  were  suggested  the  words  that  give  the  title  to 
this  book.  '  Deep  in  the  general  heart  of  man '  is  to  be  sought 
the  inspiration  to  idealism  in  poetry,  politics,  and  religion,  the 
inspiration  to  the  higher  life  of  the  spirit.  A  poet  speaks  here, 
too,  and  because  Mr.  Woodberry's  pure  and  graceful  style,  the 
uplifting  strength  of  feeling  in  his  thought,  place  him,  even 
when  he  writes  in  prose,  with  them  who  are  the  mouthpieces  of 
the  soul." 

Philadelphia  Press: 

"It  is  encouraging  to  come  across  a  volume  of  essays  like 
these,  which  do  not  merely  skim  the  surface  of  their  subjects, 
but  penetrate  deep  into  *  the  general  heart  of  man.'  " 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY, 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 


Makers  of  Literature 

BEING  ESSAYS  ON  SHELLEY,  LANDOR,  BROWNING, 

BYRON,  ARNOLD,  COLERIDGE,  LOWELL, 

WHITTIER,   AND   OTHERS 

By  GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY 
Cloth    i2tno    $1.50 


New  York  Evening  Post : 

"  It  is  a  service  to  students  of  the  best  in  literature  to  com 
mend  to  them  the  ideas  and  the  guidance  of  these  remarkable 
appreciations.  They  are  examples  of  the  broad  and  diverse 
range  of  equipment  which  the  true  critic  must  possess  —  the 
natural  gift,  the  wide  and  delicate  sympathy,  the  knowledge  of 
literature  and  systems  of  thought,  the  firm  grasp  of  the  funda 
mental  principles,  vivified  and  illumined,  if  possible,  by  the 
poet's  insight  and  his  divination  of  the  heart  of  man.  These 
gifts  and  acquirements,  together  with  the  graces  of  a  finished 
style,  Mr.  Woodberry  does  certainly  display.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  as  a  critic  he  is,  on  our  side  of  the  ocean,  the  legiti 
mate  heir  of  James  Russell  Lowell  —  to  all  appearances,  in  fact, 
his  sole  inheritor  of  the  present  day." 

Chicago  Evening  Post : 

"  The  book  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  literary  art  of 
America." 

Brooklyn  Eagle : 

"  A  valuable  addition  to  recent  criticism." 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


NATIONAL  STUDIES   IN  AMERICAN  LETTERS 

EDITED  BY  GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRY 
Cloth        1 2 mo       $1.25  each 


Old  Cambridge 

By  THOMAS  WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON 

Brooklyn  Life  : 

"  It  is  just  the  sort  of  book  that  one  would  expect  from  the 
author,  graceful  in  form,  abounding  in  the  genuine  atmosphere 
of  the  old  university  town,  full  of  pleasant  personal  anecdotes 
and  reminiscences  of  the  Cambridge  of  forty  or  fifty  years  ago. 
Many  great  figures  pass  across  the  stage,  with  nearly  all  of  whom 
Colonel  Higginson  was  personally  acquainted;  and  this  inti 
macy  gives  the  book  a  charming  flavor." 


Brook  Farm 

ITS  MEMBERS,  SCHOLARS,  AND  VISITORS 

By  LINDSAY  SWIFT 

The  Outlook  : 

"  The  book  has  a  value  apart  from  its  delineation  of  Brook 
Farm.  ...  It  ought  to  be  widely  and  carefully  read,  especially 
where  .  .  .  socialistic  notions  are  gaining  many  adherents,  for 
it  will  aid  the  young  enthusiast  to  define  what  may  be  and  what 
cannot  be  for  a  very  long  century  at  least." 


The  Hoosiers 

By  MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


The  Clergy  in  American  Life  and  Letters 

By  DANIEL  DULANY  ADDISON 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


Woodberry. 
Poems* 


129882 


953 


2$  1918 


Sept.  25*13       Steel 


~ :.  • 


